


The Broken Hearts Society

by Itsanna222



Category: The Iliad - Homer, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: :), Also it's a slow burn. I hate slow burn romances, Angst, Bri and Patroclus are besties, Deidaimia's whiny and annoying, Fluff, Football star Achilles, Hector's a jerk, High School AU, I have no clue what I'm doing at this point, I swear it will have a happy ending, It just takes awhile to get there, M/M, Oh, Patroclus has an abusive father :(, Patroclus sort of turned into Adam Parrish from trc, So I'm sorry if the beginning part is sad, but apparently they're all I can write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsanna222/pseuds/Itsanna222
Summary: High School AU: Patroclus is an honours student with a hopeless crush on Achilles, the football star with a secret passion for music. Briseis is his best friend, who teases him mercilessly, but would do anything for him. Achilles and Hector have a friendly rivalry that escalates when Achilles starts hanging out with Patroclus when the football team gets divided by Helen, who leaves the team captain's brother, Melelaus, for Paris. Patroclus is hiding a secret, Briseis is trying to figure out what it is, and Achilles is living under the control of his mother, Thetis. It's not a happy story, because apparently I like writing sad things, but I love high school AU's and thought I'd try to write my own!
Relationships: Achilles & Briseis (Song of Achilles), Achilles/Deidameia (Song of Achilles), Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Briseis & Patroclus (Song of Achilles), Patrochilles
Comments: 32
Kudos: 173





	1. Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patroclus and Bri plan to go 'study' at the diner where the football team's having dinner. Hector runs into Patroclus, Achilles notices Patroclus, Patroclus becomes a puddle of nerve endings and nonsensical words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm, this is my first fic. Thanks for reading :)

It’s warm out today. Too warm to be wearing a sweater. A turtleneck sweater. But that’s what he’s wearing. He doesn’t want Bri to worry about the bruises on his arms. There’s one on his collarbone, hence the high sweater. He went to the bus stop, breathing the morning air. 

“Patroclus!”

That’ll be her. He turns, smiling. She’s running up the cracked sidewalk, leaving the trailer park behind for the day.

“Hey,” he says that she slows down to a halt, the clump of her embroidered Doc Martens subsiding.

Her curly hair is pulled back into buns on top of her head. He flicks one and she ducks away, yelling something about it being hard to style. 

“Okay, so before the bus gets here,” Briseis whispers excitedly, “I was talking to Deidameia last night.” 

To this, Patroclus makes a face. 

She gives him a knowing look. “Yeah I know. Loathsome, right? But I was doing it for you, so you owe me big time.”

“Fair,” he replies. “I’m not going to talk to her for you though, okay? Just so we’re clear on that.”

She nods sagely. “I understand completely. Also, why would I need you to talk to her for me… Never mind.”

Bri punches his arm in a playful way. She hits a bruise and he tries not to flinch. “Okay. What I’m trying to say is that there’s a dinner for the football team tonight at that weird little diner, after practice. Y’know the one a few blocks away from school?”

He squints trying to picture it. The diner, that is. Not the football team.

“Wanna ‘study’ there tonight?” She asks, using air quotes when she says study.

He grins. “You know it.”

The bus pulls up then, in a flurry of screeching brakes and chipped paint. He lets Bri get on first. They both dropped coins in the bin at the front.

“Thanks,” he says to the grumpy looking driver. 

He’s learned it’s better to be polite. Bri her way to the back of the old city bus, her pink backpack standing out against the faded blue seats and steel walls. Once they’ve sat down, Bri pulls out her phone, answering a message and scrolling briefly through Instagram.

“Look,” she says, fully knowing that Patroclus is already looking over her shoulder.

It’s a picture of the popular football kids. Agamemnon, his brother Menelaus, who’s got Helen on his back, Diomedes, Automedon, Ajax who’s at least a head taller than everyone, Hector and Andromache, who’re the schools longest standing couple and Hector‘s younger brother Paris who is looking at Helen and looking just generally pissed off, and then there’s Achilles, standing in the far left. 

When Patroclus’ eyes land on him, he blushes and looks at his hands. He knows without looking, that Deidameia’s standing next to Achilles looking at him like he’s a prize to be won, because she’s like that in all the photos.

“Are you blushing?” Bri asks, putting her head on his shoulder and batting her eyelashes up at him.

“Maybe.”

“How are you even allowed to exist?” She exclaims sitting up again. “Like, seriously, you’re too cute for this world.”

He laughs silently.

“Nice layering by the way,” she says, plucking the green sweatshirt that he’s wearing over the gray turtleneck. “But aren’t you too hot?”

She’s wearing a plaid skirt with an orange sweater that she cut the sleeves off of. Really much more appropriate for the weather. 

He shakes his head. “No I’m fine.”

It’s like her to be concerned about him. But only because they’ve been looking out for each other since they were ten. Bri’s parents had just died and she moved in with her aunt and uncle, in the Shady Acres mobile home park. Patroclus had never had a real friend before her. She’s also the first (and only) person he’s come out to. Ever since she found out about his…thing for Achilles, she’s made it her mission to watch every football game and practice, to study with Patroclus whenever the team has a dinner, and to torment him constantly with pictures and questions.

He doesn’t mind though. But he can’t bring himself to tell her about his father, who must suspect, and his mother, who’s too afraid to say anything. His ribs ache, because of where he’s been hit. His heart aches, because he’ll never have the person he wants. 

The bus pulls into their stop. Bri hops up and waits for him in the aisle. He thanks the bus driver again as he steps out into the bright sun. It’s becoming one of those hazy summer days made for forgetting. They walk down the block to the large Sandstone building. Letters are cast into the walkway up to the doors. 

Phthiae tempestas grata ad Alta schola in qua ordinarius facti sunt incredibili

Welcome to Phthia High School, where the ordinary become the extraordinary. 

Even though he’s taking Latin, he would’ve known those words anyways;the school has drilled it into them so many times. Bree is talking about her job, at one of those pottery painting studios when a reckless burst of laughter sounds behind them. Patroclus glances over his shoulder. He feels his eyes go wide, but his body doesn’t react fast enough. Hector is barrelling towards him, with Deidameia over his wide shoulders. Her laugh is childishly loud, her dark curly hair flying up behind her as she screams. Hector slams into Patroclus, who lands heavily on the concrete, which makes Deidameia laugh even harder.

“Watch where you’re going dumbass,” Hector laughs cruelly as he runs. 

“Jesus Christ! Watch out you big, brainless oaf!” Patroclus hears Bri yelling. 

His ribs ache even worse now as he pushes himself up so he’s sitting. 

“Are you okay?” Someone who isn’t Bri asks him, clutching his arm. 

Startled, Patroclus looks up right into the concerned green eyes of Achilles. His brain goes dead for a moment and he feels his face heating up again.

“Uh-“ he starts, flustered only to be cut off by Hector, who’s yelling from in front of the school doors. 

“The fuck you doing man?” He yells to Achilles. “You’re saving the wrong girlfriend!”

Achilles glares at him before letting go of Patroclus’ arm and offering him a hand. He takes it and Achillies pulls him up. 

“He’s such a dick,” Achillies says, rolling his eyes. 

Patroclus let out a little laugh, his stomach fluttering uncontrollably. Achilles let’s go of his hand, shaking his head, the sun catching his shoulder lengh golden hair. 

“See you around man,” he says to Patroclus, clapping him in the shoulder. 

Patroclus becomes a puddle of hyperactive nerve endings and nonsensical words that he doesn’t say, because he apparently can’t talk anymore. Achilles jogs back into the crowd, turning around to face Patroclus while still running and does some kind of weird dance that only a jock could pull off without being made fun of. For some reason, Achilles wants to see him laugh again. Bri jumps in front of Patroclus from somewhere he doesn’t know, smiling widely. He peeks over her shoulder, trying to see Achillies again. He spots him at the top of the stairs. 

Hector puts down Deidameia, who flings herself at him. Patroclus is disappointed when Achillies doesn’t look back at him, but he doesn’t even know my name, he reasons with himself, quashing the little bit of hope. Bri’s making a noise that sounds something like eeeeeeee as they walk through the crowd. 

“He knows you exist!” She whisper yells as they go up the stairs. 

Patroclus pretends he has mini flags in his hands. “Yay me.” He says sarcastically, waving his imaginary, tiny flags in the air. 

She punches his arm again as they join the throngs of people in the hallways. He does flinch this time. He’s glad she doesn’t notice. It’s no cooler here than it was outside. But that might be because he is sweating profusely from the outdoors and… Achilles. 

“You don’t get to be so sarcastic!” She chides. “It’s better than nothing!”

He’s tempted to say no I really don’t think it is, but he also knows that it’s pointless to argue with her. He holds up his hands in surrender.

“Fine. You win.”

She pumps her fist, nearly hitting someone in the face. “Yesss.”

Someone taps Bri’s shoulder and she turns to her. They have a brief conversation that he can’t hear before she turns back to him. 

“Iphigenia needs help with something. I’ll see you after class for practice?” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. 

“Dear God no.” He says shoving her gently. 

Iphigenia and Bri start walking down the hall, but Bri walks backwards, nodding slowly. “Oh yes,” she mouths at him. 

He sighs, shaking his head at her as she’s swallowed by the loud masses of people who don’t know his name.


	2. Catch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achilles pretty much throws a football at Patroclus' face...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bored and have nothing to do, so I'm updating early :)

Achilles Pelides is the second smallest player on the football team, but he’s still the best. His father saw he had talent when he was young, so he paid someone to coach him. Achilles is faster than everyone and has a good arm. He’s also very unassuming, which is giving him one heck of a tough skin. Taunts and jeers before games, coaches raising an eyebrow when he’s on the starting lineup, all that stuff.

His team, The Horses, haven’t played a game this season. The first game is in about a month. Achilles is finished running laps now and stretching by the edge of the practice field. Everyone’s still used to summer and are therefore much slower. Someone laughs loudly from the old row of faded red bleachers. He looks over his shoulder to see Helen, Andromache and Deidameia there. He scowls at his girlfriend for a moment.

“You so cheated,” puffs Automedon as he lopes past Achilles. 

“Yeah, you can say that to make yourself feel better,” Achilles says, yawning. 

“Shut up Pelides,” Hector growls, coming to a halt and flopping on the grass a few meters away from Achilles, who just offers a guileless smile.

The rest of the team finishes running a few minutes later. Agamemnon, the team captain, starts talking about strategies. Paris joins the circle late, met by disapproving mutters from Agamemnon‘s crew, who think Paris shouldn’t even be on the team. Achilles is neutral on that matter. 

Deidameia laughs again and Achilles closes his eyes. His mother is friends with Deidameia’s father. Once his mother met Deidameia, she demanded that Achilles go on a date with her and that was that. His mother decided that Deidameia was the perfect match for him. He sighs. He’s not even listening to Agamemnon anymore.

“Pelides!” That’ll be coach. “Are you paying attention?”

Achilles opens one eye and looks up at the hulking man standing above him.

“Yessir,” he replies lazily. 

It’s cooling off now. Achilles doesn’t get tired as they run some basic drills. He’s known the drills for nearly his whole life. They work on cardio, which has nearly everyone panting and complaining by the time Coach claps his hands, telling everyone he did a good job tonight and that he’ll see them tomorrow.

“Heads up!” Hector yells, as Achilles is walking off the field. 

Achilles doesn’t even have to look up to catch the ball that’s flying towards his head. He looks at Hector, unimpressed. Hector's walking backwards towards the school. He points at Achilles.

“I’ll get you one day Pelides. That’s a promise!”

Achilles flips him off as he walks to the bench. He needs a moment to clear his head before dinner and Deidameia. He sits down on the cool metal bench, idly tossing the football and humming.

Patroclus and Briseis have been sitting on a blanket under a tree, watching the practice. Well, that’s what Bri’s been doing. Patroclus has been working on his homework. He hasn’t looked up once (he didn’t need to because Bri was giving him a running commentary.)

“He’s there alone,” she says, poking his face.

That makes him look as he slaps her hand away. Achilles is sitting on the bench beside the field.

“You should go over there,” she whispers.

He gives her a look. “No, I really shouldn’t,” he says looking back in his notebook.

Achilles happens to glance over them. He squints, knowing the girl as Bri, from student council. The boy… is looking down at a notebook. All he can see is a green sweatshirt and dark curly hair. Bri flicks the boy’s head and he looks up at her. Achilles recognizes him then. It’s the boy from this morning, that Hector bowled over. Achilles doesn’t know his name. He stands up and makes his way over to them. Mystery boy has gone back to his homework.

“Hey Bri,” Achilles says he walks over.

She waves at him, smiling. “Heyyy.”

She hisses something to the boy as Achilles comes to a stop. He tosses the football and catches again. The boy looks up, surprised.

“Here, catch-oomph!” Achilles is about to toss the football to the boy, but someone jumps onto his back at the last second. 

The ball flies out of his hands. 

“Achilles!” Deidameia sings as he tries not to fall over. 

“Ohmygod are you okay??” Bri asks, panicked. 

Achilles is about to answer when he sees the other boy holding his nose. There’s blood dripping through his fingers, and the football is on the ground in front of him.

“Yub. I’b fibe,” he says, blinking a lot and leaning over the grass. 

Achilles instantly feels horrible. “I am so sorry,” he says, trying to crouch without throwing Deidameia into his face as well. 

Bri glares at Achilles and Deidameia as Patroclus stands up and walks off the blanket. Deidameia doesn’t get off Achilles back, and he gives up trying to get her off. Briseis digs through her backpack looking for Kleenex.

Patroclus kneels on the ground wiping one of his hands in the grass. “I’b sorry if there’s blood on the blanked,” he says miserably. 

Bri looks at him incredulously. “What? No, it’s not even on the blanket. Just your homework.” 

She hands him a Kleenex. Achilles looks over his shoulder at Deidameia. Her cheeks are flushed and her sickly vanilla perfume is making him light headed.

“Go tell Agamemnon I’ll be late to dinner,” he says, “because I hit someone in the face with a football.”

She whines something that none of them understands, but reluctantly slides off Achilles back. She kisses his cheek, which makes him flinch, before walking back to the school.

“How the fuck did you manage to not bleed on the blanket?” Bri asks Patroclus as he holds the tissue to his nose with one hand and tries to pack up his stuff with the other. 

“No man,” Achilles says, “I’ll do that.” 

He takes the bag from Patroclus and starts shoving stuff in. 

“Oh. Uh, thanks,” Patroclus mumbles. 

Bri studies Patroclus as she hands him another Kleenex. “How-“ 

“Luck,” he cuts her off. “It was jusd luck that by hobework was in front of be.” 

She nods, her lips in a thin line as she starts picking up her untouched work. Achilles is kneeling on the blanket, still trying to shove a bunch of notebooks in Patroclus’ worn out backpack.

“How the hell does he fit all the stuff in here?” Achilles asks, to no one in particular. 

Briseis picks up the football from the blanket and throws it at him. He catches it without looking and places it firmly on the ground.

“Magic,” she mutters, zipping up her bag. “He’s just magic.”

“I’b gonna go to the bathroom,” Patroclus says, pinching the bridge of his nose, which is darkening with a bruise. 

“Do you want me to come with?” Bri asks. 

He shakes his head. “I’ll beet you out frond, can you bring my sduff?” 

“Okay,” she says, glancing at Achilles. 

Patroclus starts off towards the school. Achilles growls at the backpack. 

“Okay pretty boy,” Bri says, taking the bag from him. “I’m gonna do this, since you’re clearly incapable.”

Achilles glares at her. 

“You’ve got places to be!” She says defensively. 

His expression changes briefly and he shoves the bag towards her. “Thanks,” he says, standing up. “Also, I’m sorry,” he adds as he starts walking across the field. 

“Yup,” Bri says, fed up. “Tell that to him, not me.”

She doesn’t get what Patroclus sees in him, especially since he literally just threw a football at   
his face, but she wants Patroclus to be happy. Achilles runs across the field, catching up to Patroclus, who flinches when Achilles puts a hand on his shoulder.

“I am so sorry man,” Achilles says, walking beside Patroclus. “She just jumped on me and I lost control of the ball-”

Patroclus can feel himself blushing again. “It’s okay,” he says softly, cutting Achilles off.

He expects Achilles to clap him on the shoulder and run off again, like this morning, but he doesn’t. Patroclus isn’t quite sure how to react when Achilles keeps walking beside him. Achilles is trying to remember this boy’s name. Normally, Achilles would just call him some random name and be done with it, but he’s feeling uncharastically shy and afraid to get it wrong. 

“Hey, sorry, I can’t remember your name…?” He says, studying the other boy’s face. 

Patroclus looks at Achilles, smiling a little. “I doubt you even know by nabe,” he says, without a hint of malice. 

Achilles blushes and looks at the ground. 

The boy continues, “I’b Patroclus.”

“Patroclus,” Achilles mutters, trying it out. He realizes he’s said it aloud and quickly tries to cover it up. “Nice you meet you. I’m Achilles.”

Patroclus raises an eyebrow at him, a hint of laughter in his eyes. “Literally everyone knows your nabe. You don’t have to introduce yourself to me.” 

He sounds like he’s got a horrible cold and the Kleenex he’s holding is soaked in blood. Achilles feels awful. 

“I really am sorry,” he apologizes again as they walk into the school.

“Stop apologizing,” Patroclus replies, looking straight ahead. “It’s jusd weird.”

When people apologize to him, it makes him uncomfortable. His father never apologizes, so why should anyone else? Especially Achilles, who’s looking down at him now. Patroclus realizes that Achilles probably only two or three inches taller than him. They reach the bathroom on the first floor and Patroclus pushes the door open with his back. He tries hard not to stare, but Achilles is right there in front of him. Blonde hair, green eyes, golden freckles spattered across his nose… Patroclus clenches his jaw.

“Ub, don’t you habe somewhere to be?” He asks, hating the way he sounds. 

Achilles jumps, like someone just woke him up. “Huh? Oh. Yeah. I guess so,” he says, fumbling with his words in a way he hasn’t since he was a kid. 

Patroclus stares at Achilles’ running shoes, which must be expensive, but they’re gress stained and look well used. Achilles stares at the door, just above Patroclus’ head. They stand like that for a moment, neither of them moving.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” Achilles asks.

Patroclus nods. His heart is thundering in his ears. “Yeah.”

Achilles waves before turning down the hallway. Patroclus hopes that he’ll look back, but he doesn’t. Patrocolus steps into the bathroom, feeling like he’s been struck by lightning. He tosses the bloody Kleenex in the garbage bin and stoops over the sink, splashing lukewarm water on his face. When he looks in the mirror, he sees the bags under his eyes and the dark purple of a new bruise across the bridge of his nose. The bleeding’s stopped now, but his nose feels clogged. He doesn’t blow it though, or else it’ll bleed again. 

He’s exhausted from studying late, from acting like he’s not afraid to go home every night, from making sure he doesn’t let something slip. And now, the gorgeous Achilles knows he exists. That should be a plus, right? No. Now, the thing he wants will forever be just at his fingertips. He feels the tears fighting their way up his throat with their needle like claws. He swallows and looks at himself again.

“No,” he whispers, “No. I’m okay.”


	3. Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achilles goes to dinner with his 'friends'

Achilles grabs his backpack from the deserted locker room. He doesn’t change out of his gym strip. No one will care. He’s agitated as he walks out of the school. The sun begins to set as he makes his way to the diner. Sometimes Achilles aches for his guitar. His Mother won’t let him have it at her house. She’s a high powered Lawyer, who’s got his future all planned out for him. She’s the reason he’s taking Legal studies (which he’s failing in) and Latin (which he’s also failing in, even though it’s so early in the year). His father also has a future planned out for him, which includes a lot of football. Neither of his parents will accept his passion for music.

He rounds the corner of the block, the neon sign for Calypso’s diner appearing. Achilles knows he’ll see the sign even when he closes his eyes for the next hour or so. The air is warm, a promise of more heat tomorrow. The sky is dark purple, shot through with streaks of red. Achilles doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to be anywhere with people who only care about him because he’s good at some game. 

Agamenmon wants all of his friends to come to these dinners, and if he wants Odysseus to come, they have to eat at Calypso’s, because it’s the only place he’ll eat. Achilles thinks that’s just weird, since the food is mediocre and there’s plastic palm trees in the way wherever you try to walk. Achilles is about to walk inside when he hears Helen’s frustrated voice in the parking lot on the other side of the restaurant.

“Menelaus,” she says haughtily, “I’m not just something you own and can show off to people!”

Menelaus huffs. “Helen, I know-”

“Don’t you dare ‘Helen, I know’ me,” she snaps. “I’m done. This isn’t working anymore. Okay? I’m just. So. Done.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Achilles feels his eyes go wide. Helen and Menelaus have been together nearly as long as Andromanche and Hector. He’s straining to hear if they’re saying anything else when Helen stomps around the corner. He quickly pretends that he was just opening the door.

“Oh! Hey Helen,” he says, feigning surprise. 

Helen’s pretty, popular and also impulsive, so Achilles was actually impressed that her relationship with Menelaus lasted as long as it did.

“Achilles!” She exclaims, smiling brightly. If he hadn’t heard the conversation, he wouldn’t have known that she just broke up with someone. “Why’re you so late?” she asks as they step inside the diner. 

The smell of deep fried food hits Achilles like a wall. It’s loud in here, like it usually is. The plastic palm trees sit innocently around the room, just waiting for an opportunity to trip anyone who’s not paying attention. Achilles is frustrated that Deidameia didn’t tell people where he was. 

“I hit some guy in the face with a football,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

He feels guilty again for hitting Patroclus and then guilty for not calling him by name, though he doesn’t know why. 

“Hmm,” Helen replies, though he can tell she’s not paying attention to him. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. Dei was being a whiny bitch.”

His shoulders sag. He doesn’t want to deal with Deidameia. They go to their group’s usual table, which is packed. Deidameia waves at him enthusiastically. He slumps into the chair next to her, noting that Helen pulls out a chair next to Paris, of all people. Yeah, Paris is good looking, but he’s sort of haughty, elegant and untouchable, even for Helen. Nearly everyone hates him for that. Paris’ smile is trouble as his eyes meet Helen’s. She winks at him. Achilles wants to point this little interaction out to someone, but he doesn’t, because there’s no one he even wants to talk to right now. 

“Achilles! You made it man!” Automedon says from across the table, completely oblivious to Helen, Paris and the absence of Menelaus.

Achilles gives him a forced smile, while thinking about how Patroclus’ eyes glinted with laughter. He realizes what he’s thinking about and shakes his head, as if to clear it. 

Diomedes looks up from the plate of onion rings he’s eating. “Thank God. Someone else to listen to Odysseus,” he groans, shoving the boy beside him. “He will not stop talking about his imaginary girlfriend from that other school.”

Odysseus throws his hands in the air. “Penelope is not imaginary! Right Helen? She’s your Godsdamn cousin!” He says, leaning down to look at her. 

She makes a noncommittal noise and goes back to picking at her wilted green salad. Achilles smiles dully at his teammates' antics. The air in the diner is thick with grease and gossip. Deidameia puts a hand on his knee. He makes an effort not to jerk his leg away. At the moment he wishes he were anywhere but here. 

“Why’d you stay back to make sure that weird kid was okay?” She asks loudly.

Andromanche frowns at Deidameia. “Don’t call people weird. It’s not kind,” she chides softly.

Achilles likes Andromanche. She cares about people. He isn’t sure how she ended up with a total dick like Hector. Deidameia rolls her eyes, but he can see a slight flush in her cheeks. 

“Well he’s weird,” she says.

Achilles feels a sudden, very strong urge to defend Patroclus. He doesn’t though. He sits back in his chair, wishing he could disappear. 

Helen leans forward. “Who’re we talking about?”

Deidameia looks to Achilles, who shrugs. 

“Come on! You know his name, right?”

Hector stares at Achilles intently, something dangerous glinting in his eyes.

“Patroclus,” Achilles says, looking Hector dead in the eye.

“Oh!” Agamemnon exclaims. “That guy who’s always with Briseis!”

He knows that because he’s asked Bri out a couple of times in the last few years. He’s been rejected, and is still single. 

“Ooooh, him!” Helen coos. “Iphis had a crush on him last year. He’s that cute nerd guy, right?”

“Um, cute is a bit of a stretch,” Deidameia mutters. 

Andromanche excuses herself to go to the washroom. She doesn’t like gossip. Achilles wishes he could leave too. 

“I wonder why he hasn’t dated anyone! I’m sure a bunch of girls like him,” Helen muses. “Hey!” she shrieks, jumping up. 

Paris had just pinched her leg. 

“I didn’t say I liked him! Just that people probably do!”

Agamamnon looks at her, eyes narrowed. She sits back down. 

“Oh my God,” Deidameia whispers dramatically. “What if he’s gay?”

Helen’s mouth falls open. “Ooooh maybe!”

Achilles stands up without really meaning to. He can feel his face flushing, because it’s none of their business to be digging into anyone’s personal lives and things they don’t tell people. His chair clatters to the floor. Somewhere, a part of his brain decides that he’d rather spend time with his nitpicky mother than Deidameia. Everyone stops talking. Not just his table. Everyone in the diner. 

“You okay baby?” Deidameia asks, batting her eyelashes up at him. 

He hates it when she calls him pet names. Everyone’s staring at him now, but he’s used to people looking. 

“Yeah,” he replies easily, “I just forgot that I have a lot of homework to do.”

He sees Agamemnon raise an eyebrow at Diomedes, and notice that his brother’s not there. Achilles calmly picks up his chair, glad he didn’t take off his backpack. Deidameia’s pouting as she reaches for his hand. He gracefully slips away from her and waves as he makes his way to the door. 

Hector’s voice cuts through the resuming chatter as Achilles reaches the door. “What, is he your boyfriend Pelides?”

Achilles turns around, one eyebrow raised, a smile on his face. “Where the fuck did you get an idea like that?”

He doesn’t wait for a reply before stepping out into the dusk.

***

Patroclus meets Bri on the front steps of the school. She hands him his backpack and he puts it on. He thanks her as they start off across the empty lawn. 

“Anytime,” she says, smiling at him. “Actually, if anyone ever hits you in the face with a football again, I’ll hit them right back,” she declares fiercely. 

Patroclus opens his mouth to say something, but she shushes him.

“I do not care if it’s Achilles, or Hector or Helen, for God’s sake! I’ll hit them anyways!”

He appreciates her loyalty. He really does, but the threats of violence make his stomach churn, no matter how empty they are. 

“Yeah maybe not,” he says as calmly as he can, linking their arms together. “I think I’d prefer less violence.”

She sighs regretfully. “Perhaps you’re right.”

The sun begins to sink as they wait for the bus. The air smells of gasoline, dry grass, and the final days of summer. 

“Guess we’re not studying at the diner,” she observes, sounding bummed.

Patroclus laughs. “I think you enjoy that more than I do.”

“Oh that’s definitely true,” she says, smirking. “A whole two hours of watching you blush and attempt to do your homework is very entertaining.”

He rolls his eyes. The sky’s turning the colour of a bruise. He reaches up with the arm that’s not in Bri’s and gingerly touches the bridge of his nose. He winces. Bri sees this, but she’s not sure what to say. The closer she looks at her friend, she can see the dark circles under his eyes. She realizes that you have to be close to see them, because his skin is a light bronze colour. It’s just dark enough to mostly hide the bags under his eyes, but not the spatter of freckles across his nose or the bruises. 

In the last three years, he’s come to school with a few ugly marks on his face. He tells her that he’s fine, he just fell off his bike (she’s only seen him on a bike once, when they were twelve) or that he fell down the stairs, which is possible, because he’s clumsy as hell. But Bri still worries. It didn’t help that worry, the way he swept his hand under his nose so the blood didn’t get on her blanket. She feels the crease between her eyebrows. Patroclus takes his fingers away from his nose and looks at her. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern laced in his voice and sewn into his brow.

She smiles, though she’s pretty sure it looks forced. “Nothing at all my darling. Nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Iphis is actually a character mentioned once in the Illiad, and she makes me quite angry.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. Study?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achilles asks Patroclus to tutor him...? Sort of? Other stuff happens too...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I don't know how to speak Latin, so please forgive the Google translatedness of it.

By the time they get off the bus, the streetlights are on. Bugs make the stuffy night air feel crowded, like there’s not enough for them to breathe. The newer mobile homes are at the front of the park. Bri’s aunt and uncle live in a bright double wide, with brick accents and a cheery front yard, full of carnations and daisies. She hugs Patroclus before walking up the little stone path. She waves at him before slipping inside, staring at the lit windows for a few moments after.

When his chest starts to ache with longing, he turns away, walking down the cracked pavement. There’s no sidewalk, so he walks on the edge of the road. Almost no one’s driving around here at this time anyways. If they’re out now, they’ll most likely be back in the early hours of the morning. The street lights start flickering as he winds his way through the maze of trailers. As he goes, the difference between the front and the back of the park becomes apparent.

These trailers are smaller and older, with peeling paint and strange lawn ornaments cluttered on grass driveways. Patroclus stops in front of one with stained yellow siding that was once bright and happy, but he can’t remember that day. Their driveway is empty and the windows are dark. That means his father isn’t home tonight. He sighs, relieved, as he makes carefully his way up the rotting wooden steps. He unlocks the door with the key out of his backpack. 

It takes him a moment to find, because Bri packed his bag. Achilles tried to, but Patroclus thinks he messed it up more than helped. That makes him smile a little bit. When he steps inside, it’s quiet. It reminds him of a graveyard and he shudders, untying his worn Converse. If his father was home, it would be loud with the sounds of cars screeching or news stories from their beat-up television. He tiptoes down the short hallway and peeks into his parents room. His mother is sprawled across the bed, still wearing her uniform. But she’s still breathing. Patroclus can’t see any new bruises on her. He nods to himself reassuringly as he gently closes her door. He steps in something sticky and cringes, pulling his sock away from the floor.

Once he’s in his room, he closes his own door and flicks the light switch. Nothing happens. He tries again, cursing under his breath. This explains why it’s so muggy in here. Either his mother forgot to pay the electricity bill, or his father spent the money. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket. It’s nearly dead and there’s no service or internet, like it’s been since yesterday. He drops his bag on the floor and pulls off his sweaters, changing into a T-shirt. Patroclus hates small spaces. If he laid down horizontally, his head would touch one end of the room and his feet would touch the other. He pulls off his jeans and collapses into the creaky bed. 

He picks up his phone and sets an alarm for five am, praying that it’ll last until then. If he gets up early enough, he’ll avoid his father and be able to do his homework at the bus stop. He does this often. Patroclus closes his eyes, exhausted. His mind wanders. Bri’s pink backpack, his mother’s apron and dress from the restaurant she works at, Latin homework, Achilles in Latin class, Achilles in a football uniform, Achilles talking to him in the hallway, Achilles, Achilles, Achilles. 

He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees sparks. He wishes he could do his homework. 

Achilles gets on the train. He’s got a hoodie on over his gym strip now. He’s got his earbuds in. The train lurches forwards. He’s holding onto a handle and standing, because he’s agitated. There’s a pile of homework in his backpack that he’s got no idea how to do. The train stops and the only other passenger in his car gets out. Achilles knows he should sit down and try to get something done, but he’s restless and upset and he’s not sure why. Maybe it’s Deidameia. Maybe it’s Helen. Maybe it’s because the people he hangs out with aren’t kind. Maybe it’s because of Patroclus. 

He starts humming along with the guitar solo in Love is a Verb, by John Mayer. His mother hates it when he hums. His father doesn’t care what he does. Achilles wishes he could go to his dad’s house, but he’s away on a business trip. It’s about a forty five minute ride to the station nearest to his mother’s house. For those precious moments of solitude, Achilles loses himself in his mind. 

People are always asking things of him, talking to him, or flinging themselves at him. ‘Literally everyone knows your name,’ Patroclus had said to him. There’s someone who didn’t want anything from him. Patroclus. Achilles thinks about their (sort of) conversation. He realizes that he didn’t walk away from Patroclus because Patroclus didn’t say much. Also, the way his eyes laughed made Achilles wonder about him. Patroclus was quiet and observant and… kind of surprising. 

He’s smiling as he gets off the train. The night is muggy. Achilles hears a text come in and he pulls out his phone. It turns out, there’s about twelve messages from Deidameia, one from Hector, two from Agamemnon and a whole crapton of Instagram notifications. He feels a bitter mood descend on him again as he ignores all of the messages. He trudges across the street and up the hill into his mother’s opulent neighbourhood. Every now and then, a car passes him, with some loud muffler or a shiny coat of custom paint. He thinks it’s all a little bit silly as he walks up the path to his mother’s house. It’s large, angular and grey, with a whole bunch of windows, showing off fancy chandeliers. 

Achilles is thrilled when he sees all the cars parked on the street out front. It means his mother’s having some sort of party, so she won’t interrogate him too much tonight. He runs up the steps to the door with renewed enthusiasm. The fountain to the right shuts off.That means it’s nine pm. He opens the door and steps inside, pulling out his earbuds. The sounds of chatter, glasses clinking, and too much money flood over him. As soon as the door closes behind him, someone claps him on the back.

“Achilles. How’s football going kid?”

He becomes the ball in a pinball game, bouncing around from guest to guest, answering questions about school (which he answers vaguely, but charmingly), his love life (ugh), and football (no comment). He’s played this game before. All he has to do is smile, laugh, accept side hugs from his mother’s work friends, and clap people on the shoulder. Eventually, he makes it to the stairs. 

“My son!” His mother croons from somewhere behind him. 

Achilles sighs and turns around. Thetis is a tall, severe woman with stark black hair and dark eyes. 

He flashes her his most charming smile. “Mother,” he begins, but doesn’t know how to continue.

She’s holding a flute of champagne, standing next to a squat man Achilles knows to be Deidameia’s father. They both walk over to where Achilles is standing. He feels slightly cornered. Deidameia’s father shakes Achilles’ hand and winks at him. Achilles doesn’t know what to do with this. Thetis gives her son a one armed side hug, which he doesn’t return.

“I’ve got homework,” he says, which is technically true. He does have homework in his backpack. He’s just not going to do it.

Thetis nods. “Goodnight then,” she says, kissing his temple. 

She and Deidameia’s father fade into the crowd again. Achilles wants to sing with joy, but that would make his mother come back over here and give him a lecture on the dangers of music, so he keeps his mouth shut. He bounds up the stairs and into his room. Once the door’s closed, he starts humming, and throws his backpack on the floor. The air conditioner sings along with him. He sits on the edge of his bed. This room is huge. The thing is, anyone could live here. Nothing about this great, empty space says Achilles Pelides. The walls are grey. The carpet is white. There’s a closet. And those are the interesting things in the room. 

Achilles pulls out his phone again and starts scrolling through the notifications. He doesn’t open any of them though. He scrolls through them again, and again, before he realizes that he’s looking for something. Something that isn’t there. A message from Patroclus. He wants to talk to him again. 

***

Briseis walks Patroclus to Latin the next day. This morning, she found him sitting in the bus shelter, doing his homework. When she asked him why, he didn’t look up, but he gestured vaguely in the direction of the trailer park and mumbled something about electricity. He fell asleep with his head on her shoulder when they were on the bus. Now, they’re walking with their arms linked, to room 206. When they get there, Patroclus pulls his arm out of Bri’s and dances subtly towards the door, which makes her giggle. He laughs his silent laugh, waving to her before going into the classroom. Bri’s smile fades as she bites her bottom lip, staring at the spot he just was. The bruise on his nose from the football is more prominent today. She texted him last night, but the message didn’t send. And he’s wearing another turtleneck today. 

“Hey Bri!” Someone yells at her from down the hallway.

She looks over to see Achilles making his way through the crowd. “What do you want?” She asks skeptically as he stops beside her. “You already have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah don’t remind me,” he mutters. “Is Patroclus here today?” 

Bri raises her eyebrows. “He’s been here everyday since the start of freshman year Achilles.”

“Woah,” he replies, eyes wide, looking slightly like a stunned puppy dog. “How did I never notice him before?”

She chokes on a surprised laugh. “Guess you just had to throw a football at him.”

Achilles raises an eyebrow at her, frowning. 

She shrugs, smiling at him. “See you around Achilles,” she says.

Achilles watches her go, puzzled. The bell rings and he darts into the classroom. He takes the last empty seat, which is in the second, next to a girl with wild red hair. Achilles pulls out his stuff, covertly trying to locate Patroclus. 

“Okay everyone,” announces Mr. Phoenix.

He’s a hipster type of scholar, with curly hair and wire rimmed glasses. Achilles can never tell how old he is. 

“We’ll be having our first test of the year today.”

Achilles feels his heart sink. He doesn’t care about Latin, but it’s not the greatest feeling to not know any of the answers to test questions. Sometimes he wishes he’d actually taken notes and studied. 

“Patroclus,” Mr. Phoenix says, sounding slightly concerned. “Are you okay?”

Achilles finds Patroclus then. He’s sitting on the other side of the classroom, resting his forehead on the edge of his desk. 

“Yes,” Patroclus says, sitting up. “I’m fine.”

Mr. Phoenix nods, but studies Patroclus for another moment. Achilles does too. The boy looks tired and the bruise from the football makes Achilles wince guiltily. Mr. Phoenix starts handing out tests. Patroclus closes his eyes and is nearly overcome with exhaustion. He opens them and glances over at Achilles, who’s already got a test. His brow is furrowed as he presses the end of his pen into his chin. Patroclus jumps when a test drops onto his desk. 

“Thanks,” he whispers, not looking up at Mr. Phoenix. 

He expects the teacher to move along, but he doesn’t. “No problem,” Mr. Phoenix replies. “And if you ever need anything, just let me know, okay?”

Patroclus hates the pity in his teacher’s voice, but he nods. “Okay.”

Mr. Phoenix moves on. Patroclus doesn’t want people’s pity. He’s not a charity case. And there’s no way he’s going to a teacher for help with anything that isn’t school.

***

The lunch bell rings. Achilles hands in his test, knowing that it’s not going to be his best mark, because he left most of the answers blank. Patroclus handed in his test a long time ago, with as much confidence as an exhausted, distracted mess of a boy can. He gets up and walks into the hallway, careful not to be the last student in the room, since Mr. Phoenix would probably ask him if he was okay again. His head feels a bit lighter though. He’s meeting Bri for lunch today. Tuesday’s the only day she doesn’t have some kind of club. He stops at his locker first.

Achilles saw Patroclus hand in his test first, and he saw the impressed look Mr. Phoenix had while looking it over. Achilles feels incredibly clever as he leaves the classroom. Not because of his test, but because of his idea. He scans the hallway until his eyes land on a head of dark curls. Someone yells Achilles’ name, but he ignores them. He cuts across the hall.

Patroclus is digging through his backpack when Achilles leans against the locker to his right. 

“Hey,” Achilles says.

Patroclus looks up. His heart hiccups and sputters, coughing like the engine of an old car. Damn Achilles and his James Dean lean.

“Uh, hi,” Patroclus replies. He has no idea why Achilles is talking to him again. “Do you… need something?” He asks tentatively.

Achilles flashes him a smile. “Well, I was hoping that you could help me with Latin,” Achilles says, hoping that he sounds calm, because he can barely hear himself over the rush of blood in his ears. “Maybe after practice some days?”

Patroclus bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “Cur non?” He replies, studying Achilles’ confused expression.

“What?” 

“You really have no idea what you’re doing, do you?” Patroclus laughs. “I said why not.”

Achilles smiles. “Sweet.”

Patroclus sets his bag on the floor and closes his locker. 

“Here,” Achilles says, holding out his phone. “Put in your number.”

“Uh,” Patroclus bites his lip. He’s not sure if he should give Achilles his number, in case the phone bill doesn’t get paid for a while. In the end, he takes the phone carefully, overcome by the possibility of actually texting Achilles. “Just so you know, I’m… I don’t always answer messages,” Patroclus says as he puts his number into Achilles’ phone. “And if I don’t, it’s not personal, okay?”

Achilles nods, one side of his mouth quirked. “No worries.”

Patroclus hands Achilles the phone. When he takes it, their fingers brush and Patroclus thinks this is what it must feel to be struck by lighting. 

“Patroclus!” Bri yells from down the hallway.

Grateful for the distraction, he turns and waves at her. 

“Get your wholesome self over here right now!” she demands. 

Patroclus feels himself blushing. He scowls at her. He was doing so well at not blushing. Achilles laughs. 

“I guess I’ll see you around Patroclus,” Achilles says, smiling.

Patroclus walks backwards into the hallway, shrugging. “Ita coniecto,” he says.

“You can’t speak to me in Latin,” Achilles whines. 

Patroclus just waves and joins Briseis in the mob of students.


	5. Beauregard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They study together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I don't speak Latin, so forgive the google translatedness of this

“What did he want?” Bri asks Patroclus as he joins her. 

She’s waggling her eyebrows suggestively, but he just shrugs, unable to comprehend English at the moment. His brain is a jumbled mess. 

“Achilles… wanted help… with Latin,” he says, trying to make sure what he’s saying makes sense. 

Bri full on screams, making a bunch of people stare. Patroclus shushes her, but he’s beaming, so it doesn’t work too well. 

“That’s amazing,” she whispers, after calming down. 

They step outside and she playfully shoves him. “I guess he saw how amazing you are,” she says, tugging gently on one of his curls.

“At Latin. He saw how amazing I am at Latin,” Patroclus adds lamely.

Bri scoffs, flopping down on the grass of the front lawn. He sits down next to her. He’s starving, since he hasn’t eaten since this time yesterday. But he also forgot to pack a lunch. He sighs, laying down on the cool grass. 

“Do you have food?” Bri probes, poking his leg. 

He screws his eyes shut and rubs them with the heels of his hands. “No.”

Bri throws an orange and a piece of lemon loaf onto his stomach. “Have that. You need to eat Patroclus! You’re a stick and you’re making me self conscious,” she says, kicking his foot. 

He sits up and the food falls into his lap. He gives her a grateful, yet apologetic smile. As they eat, Bri talks about student council and how they’re already planning the homecoming dance. He knows this means that she’ll have to stay after school. Two people come out of the school and Bri stops talking. Helen, the popularest of the popular girls, is holding hands with someone who isn’t Menelaus. 

Patroclus glances at Bri, his brow furrowed. “She was dating Menelaus yesterday, right?”

“Yup,” she replies, squinting at them. “Is that Paris?”

Achilles is late to lunch. He sits at his usual spot at his usual table, with the team and their girlfriends. He’s trying to figure out what Patroclus said to him as he walked away, but he can’t, and it’s making him frustrated. He was going to sit in the empty spot between Menelaus and Agamemnon so he could avoid Deidameia, but she saw him. She’s smiling at him now, rubbing her foot against his under the table. He pretends not to feel it. Everyone at the table looks grim.

“What’s wrong?” Achilles asks, his mouth full of sandwich. 

Agamemnon answers. “Helen broke up with Menelaus and is now apparently a thing with Paris,” he growls. When he says Paris it sounds like he meant to say something like pigshit or vomit. 

Achilles nearly spits out his mouthful, laughing. 

“Are you okay baby?” Deidameia asks, rubbing Achilles’ back.

Just like that, he loses his appetite. He swallows, putting his sandwich down and nodding at Deidameia. 

“Things are looking very grim indeed,” Achilles says.

He notices Hector and Andromanche sitting on the other side of the cafeteria as Diomedes snickers. 

“Shut it! Both of you!” Agamemnon says, hitting the metal table with a fist. 

Diomedes stops, but Achilles just raises an eyebrow. 

“My brother’s honour is on the line here! This isn’t a laughing matter,” Agamemnon announces.

Menelaus, who’s been staring morosely into space, looks at his brother. “That’s a bit fucking extreme,” he mutters. “You just want Paris off the team.”

Achilles drags himself through the rest of the day, practically counting the seconds until the bell sets him free from the torture otherwise named Legal Studies. As he walks down the hall after class, he pulls out his phone and finds himself staring at Patrocus’ contact. He didn’t enter a last name for himself, but he entered a face. 

:/

Achilles laughs as he steps into the changeroom. 

“What’s so funny Pelides?” Hector asks from the other side of the room.

Achilles looks up, sliding his phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Nothing important,” he replies, throwing open a locker. 

“If it’s not important, why don’t you tell me?” 

Achilles ignores him. 

“Fine then. Be all secretive,” Hector says as he rams into Achilles on the way out of the changeroom.

Achilles stumbles, but doesn’t fall. He never falls. He’s realizing how much he hates dramatic people. He changes into his gym strip and grabs his phone again. After shoving all his stuff in the locker, he sits down on the bench and types hey to Patroclus. He presses send. Automedon and Diomedes come into the changeroom laughing about something. Achilles looks back down at his phone. The blue line at the top of the screen that shows a message is sending is stuck in the last centimeter. 

Achilles frowns, making sure that there’s service. Three bars. The message hovers in the in between before the red exclamation mark appears next to it. Message failed to send. Achilles frowns even harder, like it might magic the message into sending. It doesn’t. He keeps his phone with him as he walks to the practice field. 

“Pelides!” Achilles looks up from his phone to see Hector, who’s tossing a ball to Paris. “Who’re you texting? Your girlfriend’s over there!” He points at Deidameia, who’s sitting on the bleachers with Helen and Andromanche.

Achilles rolls his eyes as Deidameia waves enthusiastically. The message still isn’t sending. Achilles tucks his phone under the bench and starts running laps. When he can’t have guitar, running is a good way to calm himself. The rest of the team slowly arrives. On his third lap of the field, Achilles sees Patroclus, sitting under the same tree as yesterday. Achilles feels himself smiling as he looks at the other boy, who’s alone today, with his head bowed as he does homework. 

After practice, Achilles leaves with the rest of the team, but breaks off after they pass the bleachers. He’s just trying to convince Deidameia that he left with the team. He sneaks under the bleachers, walking silently. When he gets to the end, Patroclus looks up and sees him. Achilles brings his finger to his lips. Deidameia, Helen and Andromance get up and walk off the bleachers. Patroclus is watching Achilles with amusement. As the girls round the base of the bleachers, Achilles darts out and runs over to Patroclus. 

“Hey!” he says, sitting down next to the dark haired boy.

Patroclus looks back down at his homework that will almost definitely not get finished now, since Achilles is here. 

“Hi,” he says as the giant butterflies in his stomach come alive and start fluttering around in a very impolite way, in Patroclus’ opinion, though, he’ll never tell the giant butterflies that.

Achilles looks over his shoulder at the math, his forehead damp with sweat. Patroclus can smell his deodorant. 

“That looks… really complicated,” Achilles observes, his brow furrowed as he tries to figure it out. 

Patroclus wants so badly to reach up and smooth the lines in Achilles’ forehead, but he just rubs the back of his own neck instead. 

“Yeah,” he replies. “You just gotta pay attention in class, I guess.”

Which isn’t true at all. Patroclus has been studying religiously since the beginning of high school. He needs a scholarship so he can escape. He wants to be a doctor, but anything would be fine really, as long as it wasn’t anywhere near here. Achilles throws his head back, laughing recklessly. Patroclus can’t remember ever hearing a sound so full of joy, though he doesn’t get what was so funny.

“Oh my Gods,” Achilles says, still laughing. “If that was all I had to do to be an honours student, I’d be considered a genius.”

Achilles pays attention in class. He really does. He just can’t make himself do the homework. He gets by on projects and how well he listens. He’s remembering now that Patroclus has been on the honour roll every year. Achilles looks at the other boy. His eyes are drawn to the bruise on the bridge of his nose, which sends that awful spasm of guilt through him. Without really thinking, he reaches up, intending to gently brush the bruise with the back of his fingers, before he realizes how weird that would be. Patroclus is staring at him, the faintest of bemused smiles on his face. Achilles pulls his hand out of the air and rakes it through his hair.

What the actual fuck? He thinks, his heart running around in frantic circles inside of his chest. 

“So you wanted help with Latin?” Patroclus asks softly, closing his math book.

Achilles is infinitely grateful that Patroclus didn’t notice his moment of… whatever that was. He nods, regaining his composure. He lays back on the grass, folding his hands under his head (just so he can keep track of them) and closing his eyes. 

“I do want help with Latin, but also, I couldn’t care less about Latin,” Achilles says, sounding expertly nonchalant. “Wait, what did you say to me in the hall when you were speaking in Latin?”

“Um…” Patroclus can’t remember what he said. 

“It was like ‘Its Connection’ or something,” Achilles says. 

“Oh,” Patroclus says, laughing. “It means I guess so. Nothing interesting.” They’re quiet for a second before Patroclus asks, “If you don’t care about Latin, why’re you taking it?”

Achilles can hear the remnants of a smile in Patroclus’ voice. 

“My mom wants me to be a lawyer,” he replies, without much emotion.

“Huh,” is Patroclus’ response. 

They’re quiet again. Summer fills in their silence with the humming of cicadas and the white noise of heat. Patroclus regrets wearing white. And a turtleneck. 

“Wanna study tomorrow?” Achilles asks.

“Like actually study or just… study the rare art of why the heck is Achilles Pelides talking to me?” Patroclus asks in return. He’s being completely serious, but he realizes how ridiculous it sounds as it comes out of his mouth. 

Achilles laughs again, sitting up. “Why aren’t you more popular?” He asks. “You’re funny, you’re smart, you’re cu-” he stops himself again. He’s been about to say cute, but that would’ve been weird. Why is he acting so weird? “You’re conversational.” 

Achilles wants to smack himself in the face. Patroclus laughs silently, oblivious to Achilles’ blushing. 

“Achilles! I found you!” Deidameia’s high voice kills Patroclus’ happiness like an entire can of mace would kill a fruit fly. It kills his happiness until it’s extremely dead. As it happens, that’s how Achilles feels too.

Achilles buries his face in his hands, making a high pitched sobbing noise. Deidameia sits down on her knees in front of him. Patroclus shoves his books into his backpack and does up the zipper with a little too much force. 

“Why’re you with… what’s your name again?” She asks Achilles, then Patroclus, who’s already fed up with her.

Patroclus shrugs. “I’m Beauregard Wingnut,” he replies, completely deadpan.

Deidameia frowns. Achilles looks up at Patroclus, holding in gales of laughter. 

“What?” Deidameia asks Achilles, who’d just choked on his own spit and is now laughing and coughing at the same time. 

Patroclus turns away, smiling to himself. He wanted to hear Achilles laugh again. 

“Cras?” Comes Achilles' voice from behind him.

Patroclus turns, one eyebrow arched, surprised to hear Achilles speak Latin. 

“Etiam,” he replies, smiling. 

Patroclus knows this can’t end well, but he wants it so badly.

“I thought his name started with a P…” he hears Deidameia say as he walks towards the front of the school.

“No,” Achilles replies, still laughing. “That’s Beauregard alright.”


	6. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patroclus goes missing. Bri and Achilles freak out.   
> *breif mentions of abuse*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hurt me to write -_-  
> It's okay eventually though. Hah. I had to put in some sad stuff because the Illiad and tsoa *destroyed* me.

Patroclus and Bri continue to ride the bus together as the week goes by. She tells him about student council, and he tells her about Achilles. He’s tried to get him to actually study, but Achilles gets distracted easily. He’ll just stand up at random times and run laps of the field, or steal Patroclus’ pencil for no reason. Patroclus didn’t think he could get any more hopeless, but he was wrong. 

The Achilles he used to like was a picture. Now, Achilles is a movie, with strange little quirks and beautiful, human characteristics. He’s not so untouchable. It’s Thursday today and they’re riding home. Bri doesn’t have as much energy as usual, but seeing Patroclus almost giddy makes her happy. She hasn’t seen him like this in a really long time. Not since they were twelve, she guesses. He’s telling her how Achilles hums songs under his breath when he’s trying to focus on something. He’s not wearing a turtleneck today. She’s glad about that. He was nervous that she’d see the remnants of the bruise, but she didn’t.

They get off the bus, stepping into the cool night air. Patroclus takes Bri’s hand, swinging it between them like when they were kids. 

“I missed you like this,” Bri says as they stop in front of her house.

Patroclus pulls her into a hug, resting his chin on her head. “Yeah. Me too.” 

Achilles feels like skipping everywhere he goes, but he doesn’t, because football players don’t do that because they’re being tutored by some honours student. Actually, they don’t do that, period. He feels like he’s above the team’s drama. Even the people who aren’t in the popular friend group are taking sides. Everyone’s being stupid and petty about Menelaus and Helen and Paris. No one passes to Paris in practice anymore, but it doesn’t seem like he really cares. The team tried to cut Hector out too, but that didn’t go well for anyone, since he just tackled them even if it wasn’t allowed. As Achilles walks to the train, none of that stuff even seems to matter. The more time he spends with Patroclus, the less time he wants to spend with his other friends. He’s realizing that his friends aren’t the only way people can be. 

They’re dramatic and annoying and always wanting to know everything about everyone. Patroclus is quiet, funny, observant, and smart. Bri’s loud and different and kind. He wishes he wasn’t obligated to hang around with the team.

Patroclus walks from Bri’s house to his own, the happiness that was just buzzing inside him slowly turning to dread. His father has a tendency to disappear for days on end, only coming back when he needs something, or when he needs to hit someone. The lights are on inside the trailer and the beat up Subaru sedan is in the driveway. His throat tightens with cold fear as he walks up the steps. He stands there for a moment, at the top of the stairs, considering if he should just sleep outside. 

The door swings open, nearly making him fall down the stairs. His mother’s standing there, her eyes wide.

“Your father’s home,” she whispers, sounding like her throat is constricted.

The flickering patio light makes the scar on her temple look like a careless splash of white paint.

“I saw that,” Patroclus says, shuddering as he remembers when his father gave his mother that scar with a bottle. 

She’s fiddling with the cuff of her sweater. “He’s… in a bit of a mood. So just go to your room and I’ll find you something to eat, okay?”

Patroclus nods, his heart pounding. A look of concern passes over his mother’s face. She reaches up and brushes his nose with her finger.

“Who gave you that bruise?” she asks.

He doesn’t know what she’s talking about for a moment. “Oh,” he says, remembering the football. “Someone hit me with a football.”

Her eyes go wider than they already were.

“By accident,” he adds, to reassure her.

“Who’re you talking to?” Comes his father’s slurred voice over the chatter of the television. 

“Just Patroclus,” she replies meekly as they slip inside.

Dimly, behind the mounting panic, Patroclus notices that the lights are back on. His mother must’ve paid the bill. He’d had to shower at school this week and Bri kept pestering him about why his phone wasn’t working. 

“Aah. My son,” his father says, not looking away from the television. 

Patroclus is halfway down the hall when his father calls to him again. 

“C’mere kid.”

He turns around in time to see his mother wince, and busy herself in the kitchen. He drops his backpack outside his door before his feet carry him to the couch. Patroclus doesn’t know if he told his feet to move or not, or if they just did that on their own accord. He comes to stand beside the couch. 

His father looks over at him, his eyes glassy. “Who gave you the bruise?” he asks, sounding almost jealous. Or maybe that’s just Patroclus’ imagination. 

“Achilles,” he replies quietly, feeling his face flush. Not now, he pleads with himself. Please not now. 

His father grunts, looking back at the TV. Patroclus stands there, not knowing what to do. He starts walking to the kitchen to help his mother, but he hears his father get up.

“Patroclus,” he says his son’s name like he wants to be rid of it. “Do you think I don’t know?”

Patroclus turns around slowly, his breath ragged. “Know what?” 

“You think you’re too good for this town. You think you’re better than everyone, don’t you?”

He shakes his head as his father walks closer. 

“I know you’re trying to get a scholarship to schools all over the place because you think you’re too good to stay here and help your family out.”

Patroclus backs up. A part of his mind is relieved that his father doesn’t know about… the other thing. The other part of his mind knows what’s coming. He feels sick. 

“You’re worthless.”

The first hit comes.

One: cheekbone, a firework of pain.

He stumbles, tripping, everything ringing.

Two: the corner of the TV, just above his opposite temple.

The TV falls to the floor with a crash.

“See?” his father roars. “All you do is make my life miserable! You’d make a good actor with all these dramatics!”

Patroclus can barely hear over the pounding in his head. 

“Get up.”

He nearly does. 

Three: Jawbone. A symphony of broken violins plays inside his head.

Four: Stomach.

He slides down the wall, weakly covering his head with his hands. Everything sounds like he’s underwater. Maybe there’s a fifth, sixth or seventh hit. At some point, he just stops caring. At some point, it stops. He doesn’t move. 

***

When Bri gets to the bus stop the next morning, he’s not there. She looks at her phone. Eight thirty am. He’s never been this late. She tries to send him a message. It doesn’t go through. She can’t call him either. When the bus arrives, Bri almost doesn’t get on.

“Where’s your friend?” The driver asks as she climbs the stairs, glancing over her shoulder at the empty street. 

She doesn’t think she’s ever heard the grumpy man talk. “I don’t know,” she says quietly, sitting near the front of the bus. She presses her cheek to the cool windowpane. As they start driving, she cranes her neck to see if he’s there, running to catch up. If he was, she'd ask the bus driver to wait. But he’s not. All she sees are heat waves.

Achilles meets his friends at the train station by the school. Last night, his mother demanded to know why he’d gotten ten percent on his Latin quiz. She wasn’t pleased with the answer that he’d left nine out of ten questions blank. He’d actually been surprised that he got that one question right. And after she was done telling him he needed to do better, she’d demanded to know everything about Deidameia. When he told Thetis that she was annoying, she’d made him come up with three positives about her, which had taken Achilles a long time. He wants to talk to Patroclus. Deidameia’s been referring to him a Beauregard all week, and Achilles hasn’t succeeded in not laughing yet. 

Agamemnon, Diomedes and Odysseus are walking in the front of the group, trying to come up with ways to get Paris off the team. Their ideas currently include bribing the school, planting false evidence of crime in his locker, and giving him a horse. Agamemnon is currently explaining to Odysseus why giving him a horse wouldn’t work. Automedon’s walking next to Achilles, who is blessedly free of the parasite Deidameia at the moment, because she’s walking behind him, currently talking Andromanche’s ear off. Menelaus is walking awkwardly beside Hector, who’s got his arm around Andromanche. 

As the group passes through the gate to the school, Achilles catches a glimpse of Bri’s pink backpack. She’s wearing splatter painted jean shorts and a white T-shirt. Her hair’s pulled into a huge ponytail. But she’s alone. Achilles frowns. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says to Automedon, who nods.

“Sounds good.” 

Achilles weaves through the crowd of people and grabs Bri’s arm. She whips around, surprised, but her eyes widen even more when she sees Achilles. They step off the walkway onto the grass. She doesn’t know what he wants. 

“Where’s Patroclus?” Achilles asks quietly.

Bri bites her bottom lip, eyebrows creased. “I don’t know. He didn’t get on the bus today.”

Achilles lets go of her arm and pulls out his phone. “Did you text him? Or call?”

He starts typing a message and hits send as Bri says, “Yeah.”

Achilles looks at her. “Did he respond?”

She taps his phone screen with a blue painted nail. He looks where she’s pointing. The message didn’t send. 

“I don’t know why his phone’s like that,” she says, frustrated, but more worried. “Sometimes, nothing sends.”

Bri finds herself scanning the hallways with growing anxiety for the whole day. Achilles can’t focus in any of his classes. He finds Bri in the hallway at lunch as she’s walking to the student council.

“What if he’s just sick?” he asks nervously. 

Bri shakes her head. “He’s never been sick in the seven years I’ve known him. He hasn’t missed school before either.”

Achilles feels his heart sink. 

After lunch, Achilles has Latin. Mr. Phoenix looks around the room as he does attendance. He never calls anyone’s name, but he calls Patroclus’ name today, looking around the classroom, his brow furrowed. The dread creeps up Achilles’ spine.

“Does anyone know where Patroclus is?” Mr. Phoenix asks.

Achilles hears people whispering ‘who?’ He presses the back of his pen into his chin, trying to reason with himself. He’s probably just sick. But that doesn’t explain the way his messages won’t send.

Patroclus lays on the floor. He’s dimly aware of his mother moving around him. His father left sometime last night. He thinks he might be missing school, but for once, he doesn’t care.

Briseis and Achilles exchange phone numbers at the end of the day. 

“Text me if you find him,” Achilles says, trying not to sound desperate. 

Bri nods. 

“Why don’t you go to his house?” Achilles asks her.

She starts to nod again, but stops herself. She’s trying to recall if she’d ever been to Patroclus’ house. Her mouth falls open.

“Achilles, I don’t know where he lives,” she whispers, bringing a hand to her mouth. She feels like the worst friend in the world. 

“Oh,” Achilles says, looking, and feeling sick. 

He’s not sure why he cares so much all of a sudden, about a boy he barely knows. Images flash through his mind. Patroclus’ gentle smile, his silent laugh, his quick sense of humor and quiet brilliance. Achilles runs a hand through his hair, not knowing what to do.

Achilles goes home that night. He can’t stop thinking about Patroclus. He wants his guitar so badly that it hurts. He listens to music. Mumford and Sons, the Lumineers, John Mayer and a bunch of artists he doesn’t know. He avoids his mother as the weekend rolls in, which isn’t too hard, because she’s working on a big case. He texts Bri, who’s messages become more frantic with every passing hour as Sunday evening looms closer. He eats leftover Chinese food from the fridge. His earbuds become a part of him. A distraction. A way to soothe his soul. It doesn’t work though. No matter what he does, he feels the panic building inside of him. 

On Sunday evening, Patroclus’ mother decides she needs to do something. She’s afraid nearly all the time now. She doesn’t know how to be the mother Patroclus needs, but she’s going to try. She kneels down next to him. He’s been there, laying on the floor on his back, staring up at the ceiling, ever since his father hit him. Patroclus’ head doesn’t feel like it’s stuffed with cotton and balled up socks anymore. It’s just full of his father’s words, echoing around the cavern that is his mind. Achilles’ face is there too sometimes, laughing. His throat hurts.

“Patroclus?” His mother says. Her voice is loud.

He takes a deep, rattling breath, deeper than he’s taken in a long time. 

“Patroclus I need you to drink some water,” she says, placing a gentle hand on his forehead.

She sounds like the woman she was before his father hurt her. She was calm and strong and she didn’t lie to him back then. He wants to trust her, just because he feels empty. There’s nothing left that could hurt him. 

“Can I help you?” she asks quietly. “Please?”

His eyes are dry and the skin around them feels tight with tears that dried a long time ago. He nods, ever so slightly. Slowly, carefully, his mother helps him. They move across the cluttered living room floor until their backs rest against the couch. She holds a glass out to him and he drinks, his stomach churning. Water spills down the front of his shirt. He lets out a raspy, shaking laugh. His mother puts down the empty glass, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. He buries his face in her shoulder. 

A flood of memories, fear, broken glass, old toys, and bits of his shattered life washes over him and he starts to cry. He feels like someone’s pressing rocks into his face. His father did that to him. His mother’s holding him, rocking gently back and forth, softly promising to make things better. He doesn’t know if she will. There’s so much he wants, and so little that he has. He’s fallen for Achilles. Hopelessly. He’s keeping secrets from Bri. Cowardly. His mother doesn’t ask any questions. She just strokes the hair out of his face, saying I’m sorry.


	7. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patroclus tells Bri...

When Patroclus doesn’t get on the bus on Monday, she thinks she might cry again. She cried on the weekend. She cried at the dinner table. She cried because she couldn’t do anything, and that hurt. She’s been sick with worry, and it didn’t help that Achilles kept texting her. The driver gives her a worried look. She sits in the back of the bus, her mind spiraling through countless what if’s and worst case scenarios. Her phone rings. She picks it up without looking at the caller ID, praying to all the Gods that it’s Patroclus.

“Bri?” It’s Achilles. “Is he with you? Please tell me he’s with you.”

She closes her eyes, swallowing. “No.”

Achilles swears quietly. 

“I’m gonna talk to the office when I get to school,” she says, fighting to keep her voice even. 

“I’m coming with you.”

Neither of them says anything after that, but they don’t hang up. Bri’s grateful for that. She can hear the faint chatter of people on the train coming from his end of the phone. They keep each other, silent, fearful company until they both reach the school. Bri doesn’t really understand Achilles Pelides. She knows the Achilles everyone else knows. The cocky football star. Now, she’s starting to see a different version. Patroclus said that he wasn’t sure if Achilles actually ‘liked him as a person, not anything more’, were his exact words. Bri knows now that Achilles definitely cares about Patroclus as a person. Maybe even more, but she doesn’t dwell on that thought just now. 

By the time Bri and Achilles make it to the office, they’re both late for first period. They burst into the small room, making the secretary drop her orange coffee mug. It breaks, throwing hot coffee all over the stained carpet. Bri apologies profusely as the secretary reassures her. Once Bri’s sure that the secretary’s not mad at her, she takes a deep breath.

“Have you heard from the family of Patroclus…” Bri asks, stopping short. She realizes that she doesn’t even know his last name. She feels tears well up in her eyes. How could she be such a horrible friend?

Achilles puts a hand on her shoulder and starts again. “Patroclus, our friend, is missing and we can’t reach him. We were wondering if you’d heard from his family?”

The secretary frowns, looking at her computer. “No, I’m sorry Mr. Pelides. We’ll look into that though,” she adds, concern growing on her face. 

“Are you sure?” Bri asks desperately.

“No calls at all?” Achilles adds, his stately facade slipping. 

The secretary shakes her head. “You two had better get to class.”

The day crawls by and Achilles no longer tries to distract himself. All he can think about is Patroclus Patroclus Patroclus. What if something happened to the boy who makes him laugh? Last Wednesday, Achilles had stolen Patroclus’ pencil and they’d ended up running around the field, laughing and laughing and laughing. On Thursday, in Latin, Achilles glanced over at Patroclus, only to find him already staring. Achilles remembers the strange fluttering in his stomach when their gazes met. Patroclus had ducked his head down and smiled his secret smile before looking away. 

Teachers snap at Achilles all day. His friends ask him where he lost his head and if he needs help finding it. Hector hits him with a football during practice and gloats about. He doesn’t really notice, nor does he care. He gets tackled during scrimmage. Coach asks him what’s wrong. He can’t find the right words to answer. Deidameia jumps on him after practice. He carries her all the way back to the school, not listening to the team gossip about how Hector and Paris’ father is paying to keep Paris on the team. 

He looks back at Patroclus’ tree. He sighs. At least tonight is his last night at his mother’s house.

On Sunday, Patroclus’ mother helped him shower, change and eat something. He went to bed at nine and woke up at two thirty Monday afternoon. His head pounds as he sits up, but he no longer feels like Patroclus: boy made of broken glass. 

“Mom?” he calls out into the stuffy darkness of his room. 

He hears the rush of her footsteps. “Coming,” she says.

She appears in his doorway. He blinks at her.

“I paid for your phone plan,” she says tentatively.

He swallows. She sits down next to him on the bed. “I’m going to find a way to… deal with your father,” she announces quietly. 

Patroclus looks at her, startled. “You… what?”

“Don’t worry about me,” she says, taking his hand. “How are you?”

He presses his fingers to his cheekbone. It sends a jolt of pain through him.

“Okay,” he responds. “I think I’m okay.”

Bri’s in a full on panic by the time she gets home on Monday evening. She runs down the street, entering the trailer park. She’s decided that she’s going to knock on every single door until she finds him. She turns down her street, feet slapping the pavement, everything blurred and hazy. She didn’t realize how much she depended on Patroclus. She loves talking to him and messing with him. She loves his silent laugh. She loves him. He’s her best friend and she’s going to find him herself. She’s looking down as she walks up the path to her house. 

“Hey.” 

Bri stops, looking up and nearly choking on her own heart as it lurches into her throat. Patroclus is sitting on her front steps. He’s smiling apologetically and his face, oh his face. It hurts to look at the bruises. One on his right cheekbone, one just above his left temple, one on the left side of his jaw, all spreading like dark flowers. She’s not sure whether she wants to hug him or scream at him. He’s wearing the off white sweater with thin, horizontal brown stripes that she bought him the last time they went thrifting. 

She doesn’t scream at him. He stands up, wincing. She rushes towards him, tears welling in her eyes. He folds his arms around her.

“Patroclus, I swear to the Gods... don’t disappear like that,” she whispers into the itchy wool of his sweater. “I need you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

They stand like that for a long time, and when they break apart, Bri grabs his hand. He takes a shaky breath and looks up at the sky.

“Do you… do you think I could stay with you awhile?” He asks, his voice very small.

Bri nods. “Anything you need.”

She wants to ask him why his face looks like that, why he wants to stay with her, why he seems so breakable. 

“I need to tell you something,” he says quietly, “Please don’t… be mad at me, okay?”

He sits down on the steps again. She notices a duffle bag and his backpack sitting beside him. She feels nauseous. Patroclus takes Bri’s hand in both of his and studies them intently.

“My father… he,” Patroclus stops and breathes deeply. 

Bri knows what he’s going to say. She covers her mouth with her free hand, inhaling sharply as he continues.

“This,” is all he says. 

The bruises. She screws her eyes shut, swallowing hard. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Patroclus doesn’t look at her. “Bri… you’ve been my saving grace. You make me laugh, you worry about me more than you should, you listen to me, you tease me until I want to just disappear sometimes.” He laughs quietly. “Look, I don’t want you to treat me any differently. You’re Captain Sunny. You always smile and know how to make me blush. And I… I was afraid, Bri. I still am.”

Bri doesn’t know when she started crying again, but she feels the tears slipping down her face. When her parents died, she’d been more than heartbroken. She’d been broken. Patroclus had found her on the swings one day, crying. He’d asked her what was wrong, and she tried to explain to him how it felt like her heart had exploded, leaving little pieces of shrapnel wherever she went, reminding her of what she’d lost. Most kids wouldn’t have listened to her, but Patroclus did. 

After she’d finished, he’d said, “That sounds like it hurts.”

She’d nodded, sniffing. Bri still remembers how he had grabbed both of her hands a moment later. 

“I’ve got it!” He had exclaimed. “We’ll go adventuring to find all the pieces of your heart! We can be The Broken Heart Society, and we’ll fix people’s hearts when they’ve been broken and we can fix yours first!”

Bri remembers protesting that her heart couldn’t be fixed, but Patroclus didn’t take no for an answer. He’d pulled her to a stream he’d found earlier and told her to find a stone she liked. She did, thinking this kid is a weirdo. When he asked if she’d found one, she showed him the green stone. He nodded in approval.

“There it is. The first piece of your heart.”

And even though she still hurt, she had felt a little better. Patroclus had taken her exploring nearly every day after that. They found a new piece of her heart and at some point, Patroclus had dubbed her Captain Sunny. The pieces of her heart that they found are still lined up along her window sill. She rests her head on his shoulder. 

“My mom said she didn’t want me in the house until she… dealt with our situation,” Patroclus says quietly.

Bri nods. “I’ll have to explain that to my aunt.”

“Thanks for being here for me,” he says.

“I love you,” she replies. “No matter what.”

She knows that he can’t be fixed. Not by rocks or pebbles or buttons at least. She pulls out her phone and hands it to him. 

“Here,” she says, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Call Achilles. He’s been worrying about you in a way that I've deemed unhealthy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!


	8. Wildflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patroclus and Achilles hang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my *favorite* chapter. 
> 
> Also, the chapters get kinda long from here on out, so uhh just bear with me.

Achilles’ phone rings. He’s sitting in the car, waiting as his dad grabs takeout from their favorite restaurant. He pulls out the phone. It’s Bri, so he answers immediately.

“Achilles?” That’s not Bri’s voice.

His heart leaps. “Patroclus?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” the other boy says quietly.

“Are you okay?” Achilles demands. 

He watches the restaurant in case his father walks out. 

Patroclus laughs bitterly. It’s a sound that grabs Achilles by the throat.

“Being a punching bag wasn’t ideal, but I’m okay now,” Patroclus says sarcastically.

Achilles growls. “Who?”

“Don’t offer to beat up my father for me, Achilles.”

Achilles growls, unable to form words.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” Patroclus says softly, all the sharpness gone from his voice.

Achilles wants to hit something. It’s not fair. Patroclus is good. He deserves the whole fucking world. 

“Achilles, are you just gonna sit there growling? Please don’t tell anyone.”

Achilles growls in response, which makes Patroclus laugh quietly. 

“I won’t tell anyone,” Achilles replies, his throat aching.

He hurts for Patroclus. He doesn’t understand why he feels like this. He’s never felt like this about anyone before. Someone’s talking to Patroclus now. Achilles can hear their voice, but he can’t hear what they’re saying. 

“I have to go,” Patroclus says, a moment later. 

Achilles doesn’t want him to go. He says goodbye anyways. His dad walks out of the restaurant with two paper bags. Achilles still wants to hit something. He closes his eyes and rests his head on the headrest. Why? Why why why?

Bri’s aunt agrees to let Patroclus stay with them. When she sees his face, she gasps and hugs him, saying he’s always welcome there. Bri sets up an air mattress in her room for him to sleep on and her aunt doesn’t question it. Everyone knows that Bri and Patroclus are just friends. Patroclus calls his mother and they talk in hushed tones for a couple minutes. She tells him that when his father gets home, she’s going to call the police and press charges. Patroclus tells her she doesn’t have to. She says yes, she does. 

Bri’s only met his mom once, at a school play in grade seven. That was before everything. Before the scar. 

Patroclus is grateful to be sitting at a dinner table, around people who aren’t afraid that someone will walk in any moment and hurt them. When he did eat with his mother at home, it was always quiet. Eat as fast as you can before your father gets home. But here, Bri, her aunt and her uncle are laughing and talking. He’s not too hungry, but he does eat some of the nachos and salad. He’s actually happy, for the first time in days. 

***

When he and Bri get to school the next day, Achilles is waiting at their bus stop, hopping from one foot to the other. Patroclus swallows. He wants to hug him, but he doesn’t. He feels the impolite butterflies coming alive in his stomach when Achilles looks at him. Achilles nearly passes out when he sees the bruises. He covers his mouth with a hand, devoid of all words.

“Hey,” Patroclus says, waving awkwardly. 

Achilles says I wish I had been there to protect you, but it comes out as “Hey.”

They stare at each other for a long moment before Bri clears her throat. “Hey guys, we’re gonna be late. You can stare at each other in class, okay?”  
Patroclus blushes and Achilles looks at the ground, swallowing.

At lunch, Achilles doesn’t go to his usual table. He walks into the cafeteria, then walks right out again when he doesn’t see Patroclus. He finds him in the library, sitting on the floor with his back against a shelf. 

“Hi,” he says, sitting down next to him.

Patroclus doesn’t look up from the work he’s doing. “Hi Achilles,” he responds.

Achilles closes his eyes and rests his head against the shelf, starting to hum some melody that popped into his head. Patroclus shushes him. 

“So… do you still wanna study after school?” Achilles asks after a moment. 

Patroclus still doesn’t look up. “Hmm, I think you mean, ‘do you want me to distract you while you attempt to study’?”

“Hey! I’m actually learning!” Achilles says defensively. 

Patroclus snorts. “You keep telling yourself that, okay?” 

“But seriously,” Achilles says, watching Patroclus closely. “Do you want to?”

Patroclus rolls his eyes, glancing up at Achilles. “Sure.”

Achilles smiles, then bumps his shoulder against Patroclus’. “So I’m distracting to you, huh?”

He blushes and pushes a cackling Achilles away, without looking away from his essay. 

Patroclus and Achilles keep eating together. On Tuesday, Bri joins them. She waggles her eyebrows at him and covertly sends him a text. Patroclus picks up his phone, glares at her, reads the message, and blushes, making Bri double over in fits of laughter. Achilles asks what it is and looks at Patroclus’ phone, but Patroclus throws it at Bri, telling Achilles it’s nothing. 

At football practice, Achilles’ friends ask him where he’s been. He shrugs, saying he needs a break. Deidameia doesn’t like this. She keeps texting him and trying to drag him with her after practice, but he’s just so done. He would break up with her. He wants to break up with her, but he’s a little bit worried about what his mother might do if he did. 

In practice on Wednesday, they’re doing a pass and weave drill, where three people start in a line and the guy in the middle has the ball, and the two on the outside both run. The middle guy passes the ball to one of the outside guys and he runs to the middle and yeah yeah yeah. Achilles is with Automedon and Menelaus. He passes and goes to the outside. He keeps finding himself looking over at Patroclus, under the tree. Achilles wants him to look, but he never does and that disappoints him for some reason. He stops without warning, because he might’ve just hit an invisible wall. What if…

“Achilles, man, what’re you doing?” Automedon yells from the other side of the field. 

Achilles feels his heart pounding in his throat. He’s never had… feelings for someone before. What if… nope. He shakes head and starts running. No way. He catches the ball and throws it to Menelaus. No. Way.

Patroclus’ mother calls him everyday to update him. His father hasn’t returned yet. She tells him to apologize to Bri’s aunt and uncle, and he does. They tell him he’s no trouble at all, that it’s nice to have someone to do the dishes after dinner. Bri continues to torment Patroclus whenever they’re with Achilles. It doesn’t help that sometimes, just maybe, Patroclus feels like Achilles might like him back. But he’s pretty sure that’s just his imagination. At night, Bri and Patroclus talk about everything and nothing, like they used to, before his life got complicated. 

Sometimes, Achilles will send Patroclus a song. Then another song and another song and another. Patroclus never would’ve guessed that Achilles liked music so much. Against his better judgement, Patroclus puts all the songs into a playlist and when he listens to it, he smiles like a complete idiot. 

***

Whenever Achilles isn’t in a class, he’s with Patroclus and sometimes Bri, because those two are best friends. On Friday, after school, Achilles finds Patroclus at his locker, pulling out notebooks. Patroclus sees him coming and looks down. Because Achilles and his James Dean lean… it’s just not okay. 

“Hey,” Achilles says, leaning on the locker. “Wanna come hang out at my house?” he asks casually, because even after the realization and suppression of possible feelings for Patroclus, he still wants to hang out with him. (Even if he feels the constant need to impress him.)

Patroclus looks at him now, eyebrow raised. “Don’t you have practice?”

Achilles shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets. “I’m good enough already. And besides, I can’t stand the way everyone’s trying to get Paris off the team. If I pass to him, Agamemnon will literally get Coach to bench me for the rest of practice!”

Patroclus hums, amused. 

“And did you know someone actually tried to bribe Coach to get Paris kicked off the team? For going out with some girl he liked? Helen’s the one who should be kicked off the team, but she’s not on the team in the first place, so I don’t know, why can’t everyone just chill out?”

Patroclus did know that someone tried to bribe the coach, because Bri learns all the rumors somehow, but he nods, looking surprised. 

“And no one will care if you’re not there?” Patroclus asks, closing his locker and turning to Achilles. 

Achilles grabs Patroclus’ shoulders and shakes him. “Loosen uppp,” he sings. 

“Fine,” Patroclus says, wishing Achilles wouldn’t touch him, since it causes his brain to go into hyperdrive. “Just let me text Bri.”

Achilles grins, picking up Patroclus’ backpack and running down the empty hallway. Patroclus starts to call out to him, but just ends up shaking his head and laughing. He calls Bri, telling her he’s sorry that he’s not going home with her and that he’s hanging out with Achilles. He cringes when he hangs up. She’ll have a field day with that. He calls his mom, leaving a voicemail letting her know where he’s going. After he hangs up, he covers his mouth and laughs. He can’t believe this is happening.

Achilles waits on the front steps of the school. He taps out the rhythm of a song with his foot as the lyrics roll through his head. Patroclus comes out of the school, panting, but smiling.

“You know, I’ll follow you even if you don’t steal my stuff,” he says playfully, grabbing his bag from Achilles, who smiles.

They walk to the train station and Achilles fiends himself wondering… what if? They get on the train and Achilles offers Patroclus an earbud.

“What do you want to listen to?” he asks. 

Patroclus shrugs. “Whatever you like.”

What if…

They transfer from the train onto a bus that goes to Achilles’ dad’s house. Patroclus tries to pay attention to Achilles talking, but all he can do is stare at their knees, which are pressed together. Achilles tells Patroclus that his father might ask a lot of questions, or he might say hello and leave. Achilles talks about his dad quite a bit, Patroclus notices, but never about his mother. He wonders why.

When they get off the bus, Achilles asks Patroclus about his day. 

“Achilles you were literally there for ninety eight percent of it,” he says.

Achilles shrugs. “Tell me anyways.”

They walk for about two blocks and Achilles keeps asking questions until he stops in front of a big, brown house, across the street from a soccer field. Achilles unlocks the door, stepping inside, with an amazed Patroclus behind him. 

“Hello?” Achilles calls out, taking off his runners. 

Patroclus just stands there. The house isn’t fancy, but it’s cool and open, with brown carpets and matching leather furniture. 

“Hey Achilles,” a man says, coming down the stairs at the end of the hall. “Oh, you must be Patroclus.”

Patroclus waves. 

“Yeah,” Achilles answers for him. 

“Nice to meet you,” Achilles' father says, clapping Patroclus on the shoulder before sitting down on the leather couch in the sitting room, which is next to the door. Patroclus tries not to flinch. 

The bruises on his face have faded, so people aren’t staring and whispering like they did on Tuesday, which he’s grateful for. 

“Nice to meet you too,” Patroclus replies. 

Achilles is walking slowly down the hallway. Patroclus unties his beat up Converse and follows. 

“Okay, see you around dad,” Achilles says when Patroclus stands up again. 

He grabs his wrist and bounds up the stairs, dragging Patroclus after him. 

“Geez Achilles,” Patroclus complains as he tries to keep up. 

Achilles looks back sheepishly. “Sorry.”

He lets go of Patroclus’ wrist to open the door to his room. The room at his mother’s house is empty and devoid of Achilles, but here, the walls are covered in posters and photographs. There’s a bulletin board and a desk covered in old homework. Patroclus doesn’t know what to do, so he steps tentatively inside, after Achilles, who throws his bag on the floor next to his bed and falls onto his bed. 

Patroclus stands there, watching him. He runs a hand through his hair. “I need to do my homework,” he says.

Achilles sighs. “Fine. You can use the desk if you can find it under all that stuff. Just please don’t take too long.”

“Don’t worry. It should only take three hours,” Patroclus jokes, sitting down on the spinny chair in front of the desk. 

Achilles makes that dramatic sobbing noise as Patroclus throws a pile of paper onto the floor and pulls out his math book. Achilles stares at the stucco ceiling, trying to find faces. His heart is pounding. 

After a couple minutes, he clears his throat. “Hey Patroclus?” he asks, his voice wavering slightly.

“Hmm?” Patroclus replies in the way Achilles knows means I’m doing something right now so stop being annoying. 

He takes a deep breath. “Have you…” he trails off only to start again. “Have you ever had feelings for someone?”

When Achilles asks this, every part of Patroclus’ being goes still. His mind races, overthinking, wondering, hoping. 

“Yes,” he answers, sounding much steadier than he feels. 

Achilles stares at the back of his head. “What does it feel like?”

Patroclus blinks. “First… it feels like a flutter in your stomach. Then, when they walk into a room, you can’t think straight and all words just… poof. Gone. It’s hard to sleep because you can’t get them out of your head. It’s like a guessing game. Or it’s kind of like playing with fire, I guess, because you don’t want to mess up and burn everything you have with them to the ground. Maybe it’s like a house of cards. Or you know when a butterfly lands on your hand and you just freeze, hoping it won’t fly away?” Patroclus stops, because he’s rambling. Because he’s rambling in depth, to the person he has feelings for. He turns to look at Achilles, giving him a shaky smile. “Yeah, well that’s what it feels like.”

Achilles swallows. “Oh.”

In that moment, both of them are thinking the same thing. It’s you, it’s you but what if I burn this to the ground? He wants to tell Patroclus. He wants to so badly, but what if he runs away? Achilles picks up his guitar and starts plucking the strings. Patroclus stares at him.

“You play,” Patroclus whispers.

It’s not a question, but Achilles nods slowly, his eyes closed. When Achilles starts to sing, Patroclus knows that this is it. He’s fallen head over heels, hopelessly in love with this boy. His voice is like honey, like the sunset over a lake, like a gentle rain. This is Achilles’ true escape, but even here, he wants Patroclus to notice him. Achilles feels Patroclus sit next to him on the edge of the bed. When his fingers start to hurt, he opens his eyes and slides off the bed so he’s sitting on the floor. He doesn’t want Patroclus to see him blushing. 

“Wow,” Patroclus whispers. 

It’s funny, Achilles thinks, how one word can make your heart ache and your whole body hum. He puts down his guitar. Patroclus looks out the window. It’s nearly dark. He starts to get up when Achilles grabs his ankle. 

“I’ll text Bri,” he says. “Just please don’t go.”

Patroclus nods, sitting back down. He might just explode. Achilles pulls out his phone. Patroclus reaches out and gently touches the top of Achilles’ head. His hair is smooth, silky. 

“Do you know how to braid?” Achilles asks, still looking at his phone. 

Patroclus does, because Bri taught him how. 

“If you do, here’s an elastic,” Achilles says, pulling one off his wrist and handing it to Patroclus. “And if you don’t… well I guess you’ll have to untangle it.”

Patroclus laughs shakily, taking the elastic from Achilles and starting a french braid. Achilles had no idea his heart could beat so fast. He scrolls through Instagram as Patroclus gently tugs on his hair. A picture of Helen and Paris shows up on his feed. He shows it to Patroclus.

“I think they make a good couple,” he says.

“Stop moving your head,” Patroclus replies. 

After Patroclus finishes braiding Achilles’ hair, he sits on the floor next to him. 

“You seriously think Helen and Paris make a good couple?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.

Achilles shrugs. “They’re both popular and stuck up. They’re perfect for each other.”

Patroclus laughs. Achilles stands up.

“C’mon I want to show you something,” he says, offering Patroclus a hand.

Patroclus takes it and lets go as soon as he’s up. “Um okay.”

They walk out into the hall and Achilles quietly closes the door behind them. Patroclus tries to ask what they’re doing, but Achilles just grins and shakes his head as they creep down the stairs. The TV’s on as they tie their shoes and walk outside. Achilles grabs Patroclus’ hand without thinking. He wants to let go, but he also doesn’t. Patroclus stares at their hands, tripping as Achilles pulls him across the road. They run to the middle of the field, where Achilles sits down, pulling Patroclus with him. 

“Look,” Achilles says, letting their hands fall apart as he points at the sky.

Patroclus tears his eyes away from Achilles’ face and looks. It’s not the most remarkable sky, but it still steals a little bit of his breath (the rest of it was stolen by Achilles). Achilles lays down, pointing out constellations. He comes here on his own sometimes. No one’s actually played soccer in this field for a long time. The community got a better field, so they just kind of stopped taking care of this one. Patrocus looks at Achilles. His face is bright in a way Patroclus has never seen before. Why isn’t he this boy more often? He wonders, picking at the long grass.

At some point, Patroclus notices that there are tiny flowers growing. He starts collecting them as Achilles talks about the constellations. Patroclus isn’t sure how Achilles knows all this stuff. Achilles is just trying to impress him. Achilles takes a deep breath and moves over slightly, so his head is resting against Patroclus’ knee.

Patroclus starts tucking the flowers he’s collected into Achilles’ hair. 

“Es pulchra,” Patroclus whispers, knowing that Achilles won’t understand. 

(You’re beautiful.)

Achilles squints at him. “What does that mean?” 

“Learn Latin,” Patroclus replies, smiling sadly. 

Patroclus doesn’t say anything else. He looks up at the sky, breathing in the smell of a summer night and trying not to move his leg, which is falling asleep because of the way Achilles is laying on it. 

“Patroclus?” Achilles asks. He wants to tell him. He’s about to tell him. “I… I think-”

“Achilles?!” Someone yells from the edge of the field. “Are you out here?”

Achilles sits up, squinting. His father’s standing under a streetlight. 

“Yup, we’re over here!” he says, his heart roaring in his ears. 

Patroclus looks at him. “Do you want me to go?”

He shakes his head, standing up. Achilles is agitated. He was going to tell Patroclus. He needs to tell him, because otherwise, he’ll be jumping around like some kind of over sized rabbit with a very short attention span. Patroclus gets up before Achilles can offer him a hand. 

“Can you come over here please?” Achilles' father calls.

“Right away,” Achilles calls back. He turns to Patroclus. “You know what, maybe just wait, like here,” he says when they’re standing about fifty meters from his father. “I don’t know what he wants, so um. Yeah.”

Patroclus nods, but he bites his lip nervously. Achilles starts walking again, looking over his shoulder and giving him a reassuring smile. When Achilles gets closer to his father, he sees that he’s got his eyebrows raised. He reaches out for Achilles’ hair and pulls out a flower.

“Why… on earth are you wearing flowers in your hair?” He asks, looking displeased. 

Achilles shrugs. 

“You missed practice today?” 

Achilles shrugs again. “I had homework.”

“Hmm. Tell me next time you’re skipping please. Also, I’d prefer that you don’t do that often, okay?”

“Okay.”


	9. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hector and Deidameia are LITERALLY THE WORST, and Achilles is protective.  
> *breif mention of abuse*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter also hurt me to write. Just an fyi.

It’s nearly midnight when Patroclus’ mother steps outside. The air is cool. She’s exhausted after working a long shift at the truck stop down the hill. She’s afraid. She doesn’t want to be brave, but she doesn’t think she can see her son like that again. So broken. She sits down on the steps, looking up at the sky. She’s remembering this time when Patroclus had been young. He’d taken her to a stream he’d found. They’d thrown rocks together, laughing and talking. And that’s why she needs to be brave. For the boy who was carefree and happy. She misses when things were simple. That’s when she hears the car pull up.

Nestor lives next door. He’s a wizened old man, content to stay in his little house. He couldn’t sleep tonight, so he’s just about to put on the kettle for some tea when he hears the yelling. A man. Nestor walks over to the window, peeking through the drapes. The couple who lives next door are outside. The flickering orange of their patio light illuminates them just enough that when the man hits the woman, the old man sees. He calls the police.

She doesn’t know why she thought she’d ever be strong enough to stand up to her husband. As she lies on the ground, her head pounding, she remembers the kind man she fell in love with. And one day, they’d had a son. She’s ignored the signs, when the man she knew started to disappear, slowly replaced by a stranger who didn’t know their names. It became apparent when Patroclus was fifteen. When the violence started.

Sirens wail in the distance. She wishes that they’ll come, so she can be done with this. To her surprise, they do. She can hear her husband yelling at her as the red and blue lights from the cars flood over the lawn, illuminating them. 

“What is this?” he roars, bearing down on her. 

She closes her eyes, cowering from a blow that never comes. People are yelling. Someone gently wraps their fingers around her arm.

“Miss?” She opens her eyes to see a young officer crouching next to her. “Are you alright?” 

She nods, struggling to sit up. She’s dizzy, but she knows what she wants. “I… I’d like to press charges sir,” she whispers.

***

After their brief exchange, Achilles' father walks back across the street. Patroclus makes his way over to him. Achilles feels… he doesn’t know how it’s possible to feel afraid, nauseous, disappointed in himself, and so incredibly happy at the same time. Patroclus heard the whole conversation between Achilles and his father. He wants to take his hand, but no. He doesn’t. He bumps his shoulder against Achilles’.

“I’m tired,” he says, yawning. 

Achilles notices the way Patroclus’ nose wrinkles. He likes the splatter of freckles the other boy has. Achilles is afraid to tell Patroclus now. Instead, they walk back across the street and into the dark house. Upstairs, Achilles gives Patroclus some toothpaste for him to brush his teeth with his finger. Achilles keeps flicking water at him.They laugh as Patroclus picks the wilting flowers out of Achilles’ hair. When they’re finished, the bathroom smells like wildflowers and suppressed desire. 

Achilles pulls the duvet off his bed and throws it at Patroclus before flopping onto his bed with an extra blanket. Patroclus tries to get comfortable, but that’s a difficult thing to do when everything smells like Achilles. After about twenty minutes of Achilles listening to the duvet rustle, he sits up.

“There’s a lot of room up here,” he says to the lump on the floor. 

Patroclus sticks his head out of the blanket, almost certain he heard wrong. “What?” he asks, his voice already rough with the prospect of sleep.

“I said, there’s room up here if you can’t get comfortable.”

Yes, the floor may be uncomfortable, but Gods, sharing a bed would be downright painful, even if it is king sized.

“Or I can just come down there,” Achilles offers, “so you don’t, y’know, suffer alone.”

Patroclus squeezes his eyes shut. Why is this happening? 

Achilles has no clue what he’s doing at this point. He looks out the window, cringing. 

“Fine,” Patroclus says, getting up, dragging himself and the duvet to the far side of the huge bed.

I did not think this through, Patroclus reflects as he gingerly lies down on the very edge of the bed. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep any better here than on the floor.

“Goodnight,” Achilles says, laying back down. 

Patroclus turns onto his side to find the other boy already looking at him, his green eyes grey in the half darkness. 

“Goodnight,” he replies, his voice catching in his throat. 

***

Bri wakes when the sirens come. She listens to them wail as she pulls the blankets up to her chin. It’s weird, not having Patroclus there, but she can’t wait to bother him tomorrow. She rolls over, letting sleep wash over her again.

***

In the morning, Achilles wakes up with a weight on his chest. He blinks, looking down to see Patroclus’ head. He’s confused for a moment, stupid with sleep. What? He thinks groggily before remembering.

Oh. Heh. His heart remembers too. He reaches up and gently strokes one of the dark curls carefully, like he might a baby bird. Patroclus is wearing one of Achilles’ T-shirts and his own gym strip shorts. He smells like dry grass and crushed flower petals. Achilles is realizing he’d be quite happy to stay like this forever when his alarm goes off. He reaches out to silence it. 

Patroclus wakes up to the sound of chimes and Achilles apologizing. “Fuck, sorry.”

Patroclus thinks blearily that Achilles’ voice is too close to his ear. He blinks against the sun, then sits bolt upright. His stomach feels like it’s been yanked through him at a very high speed and he can feel his face burning. 

“Oh my Gods I’m so sorry,” he says, mortified. 

He can’t believe he was just laying nearly on top of Achilles. He jumps out of the bed and starts throwing stuff in his backpack. Achilles sits up, scrubbing his hands over his face. “What? Why?” He asks, confused. 

Patroclus thinks Achilles didn’t realize, so he lets out a sigh of relief, but he knew this was a bad idea from the start. His throat tightens. There’s so much he wants. Achilles will always be untouchable. Patroclus zips up his bag, grabbing his phone off the floor. 

“I really have to go,” he chokes out, making a point not to look at the golden haired boy who’s squinting because of the sun. 

Achilles isn’t really sure what’s happening. “Patroclus, wait-”

“I’ll see you Monday, okay?” he says, throwing his bag over his shoulder and running down the hall. 

Achilles sits there, trying to figure out what the hell just happened as Patroclus throws on his shoes, not bothering to tie them. Achilles’ father is sitting on the couch again and Patroclus thanks him. He’s out of the house and halfway down the street when he realizes that he’s still wearing Achilles shirt. He falters, but doesn’t want to go back. He rubs his eyes, still bleary from sleep, then calls Bri. 

To his relief, she answers, sounding tired and grumpy. “Who is this?”

“It’s Patroclus,” he replies, feeling bad for waking her. “Can you come find me? I’m… I have no idea where I am Bri.”

“Aren’t you at Achilles’ house?”

He swallows. “Yeah, nope. I may or may not have ended up sleeping with my head on his chest so um I left.”

“You’re such an idiot,” she mumbles. “Fine, I’ll come find you, but Patroclus, you owe me a play by play of last night and ice cream.”

“That’s… completely fair,” he says. “Love you,” he adds as he sits down on a bus stop bench to wallow in his embarrassment and self pity. 

Achilles texts Patroclus, asking him if he’s okay. Patroclus wants to ignore the messages, but he also doesn’t want to scare him. He tells Achilles ‘yes, I’m fine.’ 

His mother calls him. 

“Hello?” 

“Mom?”

“Patroclus…” she says, sounding small. 

“What?” he asks, fierce concern flooding through him. 

“Your father came home last night.”

That steals any words he might’ve had. His blood runs cold. 

She continues, “And someone called the police.”

“Are you okay?” he asks her, his breath catching.

“You can come home now. Apparently your father wasn’t a first time offender. They’ve taken him into custody.”

He lets out a loud, reckless laugh. “Really?”

“Yes,” she says. He can hear the smile in her voice. 

Patroclus calls Bri again to tell her the news. She asks him what street he’s on, because she’s been driving around for a very long time. He gets up from the bench and walks to the nearest traffic light. Eventually, she shows up in her aunt’s green punch buggy. He hops in, grinning at her sheepishly. 

“Spill. Now,” she demands. 

He sighs and tells her. He hates her in that moment for smirking. 

“Why. In the names of the Gods. Did you leave,” she asks after she demands all the details from him.

Patroclus looks at her, incredulous. “If you liked someone who did not like you back, you’d understand.”

“You stupid cinnamonroll child,” she says, resting her head on the steering wheel at a red light. “You’d think as an honors student, you wouldn’t be so oblivious.”

He throws his hands in the air. “What? What am I oblivious to?”

“Figure it out yourself honey,” she says, poking him in the face as the light turns green. 

Over the next two days, whenever Achilles texts him, Patroclus feels guilty and light headed. He tries to answer normally, but he just can’t. It helps distract him when he goes home on Saturday night and his mother’s there. She tells him that they’re going to clean up the house and she’s going to start saving up for renovations. Patroclus barely knows this woman, who’s smiling and humming as she cleans stains off the floor. He remembers her in flashes from his childhood; a dance in the kitchen when she taught him how to waltz (where he just stood on her feet), a boisterous laugh, a gentle hand, brushing his hair from his forehead. It’s like she’s been freed. 

On Monday morning, Patroclus wakes to the smell of pancakes. He shuffles out of his room, dazed and confused. There’s a note on the kitchen table, in his mother’s fancy scrawl. Pancakes are in the oven. Love you. He’s not sure he believes that his mother did this. Maybe someone came and replaced her. Or maybe this is just who she is.

Achilles hasn’t slept well and when his dad wakes him up on Monday morning, he doesn’t want to move. Patroclus isn’t responding to his last text. He feels like he screwed up, but he doesn’t know how. That’s the thing that gets him out of bed. He needs to talk to Patroclus. 

When Bri meets Patroclus at the bus stop, she’s shocked at how happy he looks. He’s got his eyes closed, face turned to the sun. 

“Hi,” she says, bumping her shoulder against his.

He opens his eyes, then squints at her. She shakes her head, a tiny smile on her face. Ever since Saturday, he’s been questioning her and trying to get her to say what she knows. 

“Bri, please, just tell me,” he complains as they get on the bus. “You’ve made your point. I’m oblivious to whatever you’re trying to get me to figure out, but I’m not any closer to figuring it out, so please, spare me.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he puts his forehead on her shoulder.

“This is cruelty Bri,” he mutters.

Achilles gets to the station by the school, and no one’s waiting for him, which he doesn’t mind. He knows he’s late anyways. Patroclus and Bri go into the school with the rush of students, breaking apart for their days with a smile and a cheery wave from Bri, and a glare that turns into a grin from Patroclus. He makes his way to his locker to get a textbook, glancing warily over his shoulder in case Achilles approaches. He doesn’t. As he opens his locker door, someone calls his name. 

“Hey Patroclus!” 

His heart stops. Hector. Someone laughs, high pitched and kind of manic. Deidameia. Patroclus turns around slowly. Two weeks ago, these people didn’t even know who he was. Now, they’re making a beeline towards him. He thinks he might run into the crowd, but Hector blocks him.

“What, are you mute or something?” Hector demands, slamming Patroclus’ locker door shut with a bang. 

He flinches as Hector backs him into the locker beside his. His heart flutters in his chest like a helpless little bird. The other boy looks like a man, broad and imposing. 

“Can I help you?” He asks weakly, earning another laugh from Deidameia, who’s standing at the front of a gathering crowd. 

“Achilles likes you better than me,” Deidameia pouts. “He’s ditching his friends for you, who doesn’t even talk. You’re not worthy of him,” she spits. 

“Achilles doesn’t fucking miss practice,” Hector snarls. “Not that I care what Pelides does, but I do want to set things straight, okay? He’s not for you to talk to or hang out with, because he’s got a team that needs him.”

Hector shoves his face closer and Patroclus can feel the claustrophobia of his hot breath. He feels his stomach heave and his blood run dry. Hector grabs his sweater. “It’s so obvious. You’re such a fucking-”

“Hector!” 

Patroclus barely hears the voice over the roar of panic in his ears. 

“Hector stop!” Achilles barrels through the crowd of people.

He sees Patroclus trembling, his eyes closed. It makes him want to scream and tear things apart. He shoves people out of the way, landing in the circle around Hector.

“Look who it is,” Hector announces under his breath, menace flashing in his eyes. “The team wanted me to set things straight Achilles. You don’t skip out on your team for some little-”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” Achilles hisses, clenching his fists.

People are whispering. Deidameia grabs Achilles’ arm. “It’s okay Achilles,” she says, her fingers digging into him. 

He rips free of her and barrels right into Hector’s side, making him let go of Patroclus as he stumbles. Patroclus falls to his knees, wild with panic. No. No. His ears are ringing as he weaves through the crowd. Achilles looks behind him, just in time to see Patroclus disappear into the crowd. Hector regains his balance and rounds on Achilles.

“You wanna go man?” he snarls, bouncing on the balls of his feet. 

Achilles gives Hector an exasperated sigh. Of course he’d like to hit Hector. But Patroclus. “Why do I even bother with you?” he asks Hector, before running after Patroclus.

People move out of his way. What’s wrong with Achilles? They whisper. Why is Hector so messed up? Patroclus runs out of the school without really thinking what he’s doing. He rounds a corner and collapses to his knees in the shadow of the school. His shoulders begin to heave and he covers his face with his hands. Achilles catches up to Patroclus just as he falls to the ground. 

“Patroclus,” he says as his heart is torn from his body.

The brown haired boy continues to sob. Achilles falls to his knees in front of him, gripping his elbows.

“Patroclus listen to me,” he says.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault,” Patroclus hiccups. He feels like the things he kept hidden have been ripped from inside him and laid bare for everyone to see. 

Achilles feels his eyes welling with tears. “Listen to me,” he says, imploring Patroclus to look up. 

When he doesn’t, Achilles gently takes Patroclus’ hands from his face, placing them on his legs. “No, this isn’t your fault,” he says, sounding small.

He crawls over so he’s sitting next to Patroclus. He wraps his arm around him. Achilles wants him not to cry, to sound so broken. Patroclus buries his face in Achilles’ shoulder, his body wracked with silent tremors that threaten to tear him apart. 

“Patroclus,” Achilles starts, his voice on the edge of breaking. “Patroclus, I…”

Patroclus sits up a little, staring at Achilles with big, dark eyes. “What Achilles?” he asks hoarsely, his eyes red. “What are you trying to say?” 

Achilles doesn’t know how to say it. His heart is rattling at the back of his throat as he reaches up and wipes a tear off of Patroclus’ face. Patroclus closes his eyes, his jaw clenched. He wants to pull away. He waits for Achilles to move his hand away. After a second, he opens his eyes. Achilles reaches up his other hand to cup the other boy’s face. Patroclus freezes. Achilles’ green eyes ask him a question. He understands what Bri was talking about now. Patroclus leans forward tentatively and Achilles closes the distance between them. Their lips collide in a whirlwind of tears and wildflowers. Patroclus has his hands in Achilles’ smooth hair and Achilles is holding Patroclus’ face like he’ll never let go. When they break apart, panting, Achilles feels his pulse thundering around inside him like a stampede of horses. He didn’t know he wanted to do that so badly until he did.

Patroclus lets out a shaky laugh, resting his forehead against Achilles’, feeling like his whole body is on fire. “I… I didn’t think…”

“Patroclus,” Pa-tro-clus. Achilles says softly, wiping his teary face with his thumbs. 

When Achilles says his name, it’s the opposite of how Patroclus’ father spit it out, eager to be rid of it. 

“It’s not your fault,” Achilles continues. “I should have told you sooner. Stop being sorry for existing.”


	10. Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achilles does something he's been meaning to do for a long time, and Deidameia just shouldn't exist.

Patroclus and Achilles miss first period. They only go back inside because Mr. Phoenix finds them, sitting with their backs against the brick wall of the school. Patroclus has his head on Achilles’ shoulder and their hands are laced together, like a lifeline. 

“Patroclus,” Mr. Phoenix says as he rounds the corner. “Oh. Achilles too.”

Patroclus looks at the teacher, his eyes and lips puffy. Mr. Phoenix’s face is a portrait of relief as he walks towards them. 

“They’ve had staff looking for both of you all morning,” he says, pursing his lips. “The principal would like to speak with both of you.”

Patroclus nods, feeling tired and dejected, but also in a hazy cloud of euphoria. He pulls his hand out of Achilles’ and wipes his nose. As they walk back inside the school, Achilles throws a casual arm over his shoulders. Something makes Patroclus’ throat clog up again and he blinks rapidly. He’s glad the weather’s cooling off now, the leaves on the trees on the lawn turning red and yellow. They walk inside, following their Latin teacher down the mostly empty hallways. The passageway in front of the principal’s office is more crowded than Patroclus has ever seen. 

Deidameia’s sitting in one of the worn folding chairs beside the door, looking upset. Inside the office, Hector’s voice can be heard, too low to understand what he’s saying, but loud enough to hear his anger. Helen, Paris and Andromanche are standing in a group a little ways down. The rest of the group, Agamemnon, Menelaus, Diomedes, Odysseus and Automedon are standing on the other side of the door. Bri’s there too, pacing. When she sees Patroclus and Achilles walk into the hall, she gasps and runs at Patroclus, nearly knocking him over with the force of her embrace. He laughs silently, hugging her back. 

Achilles feels like he’s intruding, so he backs away from them, but doesn’t know where to go from there. People keep glancing over at him as they whisper. Automedon jogs over to him after a moment. 

“Did you know that Hector and Paris’ dad is the principal?” he asks, his eyes wide. “It explains why Paris is on the team, and Agamemnon is so pissed.”

That makes sense. “Huh,” Achilles replies. “Do we know what’s going on right now?”

He glances back at Patroclus, who’s reassuring Bri that he’s fine. She’s dancing around him in a frenzied yet somehow endearing way, as she probes him with questions that he answers quietly. When he looks back at Automedon, the sandy haired boy’s got his eyebrows furrowed. He shrugs. 

“Hector and your stupid girlfriend got dragged here after um… nearly beating up Patroclus, which was Agamemnon’s idea, by the way, because you skipped out on practice? He’s hoping that Hector doesn’t snitch and get him kicked off the team or suspended or whatever. Hector’s probably gonna be suspended though,” Automedon says in a low voice. He pauses to take a breath before adding, “Andromanche is really upset.”

Achilles raises an eyebrow. “That’s a lot of information.”

“Do you think we’ll play okay without Hector?” Automedon asks, sounding apprehensive. 

Achilles shrugs. “We’re a pretty okay team to begin with, so it’ll be fine.”

His attention strays to the office door, which opens to reveal all six foot five of Hector, who storms down the hallway without looking at anyone. He does pause to hiss something to Patroclus, which makes his eyes go wide. Achilles is wishing now that he actually did hit Hector earlier. Bri’s mouth falls open and she follows Hector down the hall, charging after him. 

“Don’t you ever know when to stop? Why are you such a fucking dick Hector? He’s done nothing to you and what, that's a good cause to make his life miserable? Learn how to treat people like humans! Not everything cycles around you- ”

Patroclus runs after her and catches her arm, whispering something to her that makes her stop. Mr. Phoenix looks very uncomfortable, like he’s unsure what to do in this situation, which is probably true. He ends up following Hector out of the hallway, giving Bri a disapproving look as he does. Hector waves a dismissive hand at her as he leaves the hall. The principal, who looks like he’s just about had it with students, sticks his head out of the door, calling for Patroclus, who drags Bri back up the hallway and into the office. Achilles follows them in. 

Patroclus and Bri sit in the two chairs in front of the desk and Achilles stands behind them. He puts his hands on Patroclus’ shoulders. 

“What happened between you, Deidameia and Hector?” The principal, who’s name is Mr. Priam, asks Patroclus, who proceeds to explain everything in vague detail. 

By the time he’s finished, Achilles has just about had it with human beings. He doesn’t understand why people can be so cruel. He knows Patroclus isn’t telling the whole truth about the matter, but that’s okay. 

“Well that certainly sounds difficult,” Mr. Priam observes. “How are you feeling?”

Patroclus looks at his hands. “I’m… okay.”

“Good. I’d like to let you know that our school has a zero tolerance policy and that we’ve got everything under control.”

Patroclus nods. He’s not sure if he believes that. Bri takes his hand under the table and Achilles’ hands on his shoulders are steadying, anchoring him to this world. 

Mr. Priam looks to Achilles. “Now, I hear there was some… fighting between you and Hector?”

Achilles opens his mouth to object, but he doesn’t want to be suspended from playing, and lying would be a good way to do just that. He nods.

“Um,” Patroclus interjects softly. “Hector would’ve actually hit me if Achilles hadn’t come, just as a… uh, point. Also, I think the only reason Hector was, um, picking on me was because he wanted to rile Achilles up since they’ve got their… rivalry of sorts, you know?”

Mr. Priam nods, chuckling.“Yes, I do know. I’d like to thank you for not clobbering my son, even though he most likely deserved it. Though, I will have to give you detention Mr. Peildes.”

Achilles flashes him a guileless smile. “So I’m not suspended from playing?”

Mr. Priam shakes his head. “Our team can do without Hector, but I don’t think we’d have much of a chance without you.”

Patroclus rolls his eyes. Achilles’ ego does not need that. 

“Now, you’ve all missed enough class, so get back to it, okay?” He directs his biting ‘okay’ at Achilles and Patroclus, who both laugh awkwardly. 

The three of them step out into the hallway. Achilles swallows as he looks at Deidameia. He knows that he’s never felt anything for her, other than frustration. He looks at Patroclus, who’s laughing at something Bri said. He’s never felt this way for anyone else. He knows his parents won’t be happy when they find out about Patroclus. Better if they find out from him. He’s afraid, but when Patroclus’ eyes gleam with laughter, Achilles would start wars just to see it again. 

He walks over to the folding chairs and sits down next to her. She pouts, batting her eyelashes at him. She’s enjoying the image of herself as the wronged, innocent girl, even though she knows she’s not. 

“Deidameia…” Achilles starts.

She puts a hand on his knee, winking at him. “Yes, baby?”

He pulls his leg away, scowling. “Deidameia I’m done. I can’t keep this up. You and me can’t be a thing anymore, okay? I’m done playing along.”

Her mouth is open in disgust and she’s staring at Achilles like she might look at a cockroach. “It’s him, isn’t it?” she accuses softly. “I’ll tell everyone Achilles. I swear, I will ruin you.”

“I don’t think you could do that,” he says with a cold laugh.

She opens her mouth to say something else, but he stands up and floats away. It’s like a weight has lifted from his shoulders, turning him into a creature that can fly. Patroclus watches the whole exchange with growing anxiety, but the bright hum inside of him grows too. Automedon, a thickset, sandy haired football player that Patroclus has never talked to before, comes over to him and apologizes for Hector. Patroclus smiles, telling him it’s not his fault.

“But it was also Agamemnon, though, I doubt he’ll face any consequences,” the other boy adds. “Achilles misses one practice to hang out with someone and it’s like, apparently we need a hit man to set things straight, which doesn’t even make sense, and it’s a good way to get someone suspended, in my opinion, but they didn’t listen to me.”

Patroclus isn’t really listening at that point, because Achilles is walking over to him, his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and his hair’s falling around his face in gentle waves. His mouth is quirked in an irresistibly roguish smile. Deidameia’s typing furiously into her phone, glaring up at the back of his head every few seconds. 

Achilles bumps Patroclus’ shoulder. “Walk with me to class?”

“Yeah, sure,” Patroclus replies. “Catch you later?” He says turns to Automedon, who’s got a peculiar look on his face, but he nods. 

Bri’s talking to Helen, Paris and Andromanche. They’ve got their heads down, whispering conspiratorially. 

“We’re going to class Bri,” Patroclus calls to her. 

She glances over and gives him a thumbs up, before going back to the curious huddle. Patroclus can only guess that they’re talking about Agamemnon, Hector or Homecoming, but it could be other things too. Automedon reluctantly joins Agamemnon, Menelaus, Diomedes, and Odysseus, who’re talking loudly about ‘how the hell they’ll play without Hector’. Their voices become quieter when Odyssus mentions that technically, the whole thing is Agamemnon’s fault, because he started everything with wanting to kick Paris off the team, which made Achilles get all weird and distant, which led to him skipping practice, and technically, they should have Agamemnon suspended, but they need him and yadda yadda yadda.

Achilles and Patroclus step out of the passage and into the empty main hallway, meandering slowly towards the stairwell. Achilles subtly links his pinky finger through Patroclus’.

“So,” he announces quietly, “What now?”

Patroclus’ brain isn’t working right and the stupid giant butterflies are back. “You make me feel so sick,” he mutters.

Achilles laughs, and it’s a sound that Patroclus would die for. They enter the empty stairwell and Achilles grabs Patroclus’ hand, spinning him around in a clumsy pirouette. Patroclus’ surprised laugh echoes upwards. 

“And you make me feel human again,” he whispers, pressing the other boy against the wall and kissing him, softly, tenderly.

Patroclus melts. His face is burning and his heart pounds in his throat. 

“I didn’t know you were-” he starts, but Achilles presses a finger to his lips. 

“Shhh,” he says, his expression soft. 

He leans forwards again, but Patroclus puts a hand on his face, pushing him away and laughing. “If you keep doing that, I’ll fail all my classes because I can’t think straight. And unlike you, I actually care about school, so I can’t have that happening.”

Patroclus starts up the stairs, leaving Achilles, who sighs and sprints to catch up. He walks beside Patroclus, knocking into him every few stairs. Patroclus looks at him, exasperated, but also incredibly happy. 

After Achilles’ English class, which he was late for, he floats through the hallway towards the library, where he agreed to meet Patroclus for lunch. Today is just so… unbelievable. People wave at Achilles as he passes, which is normal, but he’s surprised that they’re not whispering about him. His phone vibrates and he pulls it from his back pocket. His heart sinks when he sees the notifications.

Mom: Achilles, what’s going on?   
Mom: Achilles Pelides, you tell me what’s going on this instant.  
Dad: You mother texted me saying that you broke up with Dei?   
Dad: I didn’t like her that much, but why?  
One missed call from Mom.  
Dad: Oh. Achilles why don’t we chat when you get home tonight?  
Mom: Why did Deidameia text me Achilles?  
Three missed calls from Mom.  
Mom: Achilles Pelides, you pick up your phone right this instant.

Deidameia texted his mother. He runs a hand through his hair. He nearly throws his phone. Why can’t he have one thing to himself? 

Incoming call: Mom

He almost doesn’t answer it. 

“Achilles, why didn’t pick up your phone?” Thetis demands coldly as soon as he presses accept. 

He pushes through the crowd of people going to lunch, plugging his other ear so he can hear what she’s saying. “You told me to put it on Do Not Disturb during school,” he answers.

His mother lets out a huff that clearly says Achilles Pelides, I’m very disappointed in you, before continuing. “Deidameia texted me, saying that you broke up with her. Care to explain?” 

Achilles wishes he hadn’t picked up the phone as he finds himself outside, instead of in the library. He hears his phone buzz with an incoming text message. Probably Patroclus wondering where he is. He wants to check his phone, but he doesn’t want anyone to hear his mother.

“Achilles?” Thetis asks, her voice trickling down his spine like a stream of icy water. “Is it true?”

He sits down under a tree with red and yellow leaves, closing his eyes and resting his head against the trunk. 

“Achilles Pelides, tell me it’s not true. You know Deidameia’s the best girl I could find for a boy like you, who’s on track to being extremely successful. Tell me you didn’t break up with her for…” she stops, taking a forced breath that shudders. When she continues, her voice is choked off with anger and disgust, “For a boy who lives in a trailer park.”

Achilles knew this was coming. 

“You good?” Someone calls out to him.

He opens one eye, to see Menelaus walking over to him. “All good man. Don’t worry about it.”

The red haired senior nods. “Cool. See you at practice.”

“Achilles?” Thetis demands. “Tell. Me. It’s not. True.”

He swallows hard. “It’s true,” he whispers.

“What did you just say?” If her voice had been cold water before, it was now ice.

“I said, it’s true.”

There’s a stunned, loaded silence on the other end of the phone. Achilles finds himself holding his breath. 

“Achilles. Pelides-” and that’s all he hears before he hangs up on her. 

He’s doesn’t want to deal with this right now. This is his life, and he doesn’t belong to her. He checks his phone and like he thought, Patroclus texted.

Patroclus: Where are you?

He responds quickly, since the message was sent five minutes ago. He tells him he’s outside on the lawn. His heart is pounding and no matter how he tries to reassure himself, he’s still nervous about what his mother might do. 

Patroclus had been sitting in the library for about ten minutes before he texted Achilles, worried that he was ditching him. Achilles texted him back and now Patroclus walks down the stairs. He spots Achilles on the leaf littered lawn of the school, resting with his back against a tree. Patroclus notices, as he walks closer, that Achilles looks upset. He kicks the blonds boy’s foot.

“Hi,” he says.

Achilles opens his eyes and smiles lazily. “Hey you.”

Patroclus sits down next to him and Achilles flops over so his head is resting on Patroclus’ leg. 

“So we’re not gonna keep us a secret? If there even is an us?” Patroclus asks, looking down at Achilles.

Achilles scrunches up his nose, studying the freckles on Patroclus’ nose and his dark, sincere eyes. There are memories of bruises, but they’re faint. “I’d like there to be an us. And let’s just not hide. We don’t have to announce that we’re a thing.”

“Okay,” Patroclus replies, swallowing nervously. 

A leaf falls from the tree, about to land Patroclus’ dark curls. Achilles grabs it from the air, making Patroclus jump.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you,” he says earnestly. 

After practice, Achilles meets Patroclus and Bri under their tree. He sits down next to Patrocus, who shoves Achilles without looking up from his homework. 

“Not allowed to touch me while I’m working,” he mutters. 

Achilles raises an eyebrow and tucks his chin over Patroclus’ shoulder. Bri laughs. Student council was cancelled today, so that’s why she’s out here. She’s been bothering Patroclus the whole time. It’ll be too cold for them to study outside soon. Achilles phone rings in his hand. He pulls away from Patroclus and answers it. He’s relieved when it’s his father, but his heart speeds up nonetheless. 

“Achilles? Can you meet me out front of the school please?” his dad asks, sounding… anxious. 

He can sense Bri and Patroclus looking at him, so he gives them a quick thumbs up before replying to his dad. 

“Uh… sure. I just need to change, okay?”

“No worries.”

His dad hangs up. 

“Are you okay?” Patroclus asks softly. 

Achilles flashes him a smile, “Of course. I just have to go meet my dad.”

Patroclus can tell that he’s nervous. He closes his book and stands up. “Do you want me to come with you?”

The other boy shakes his golden head. “Deidameia may or may not have told my parents about you, so I have some explaining to do,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Patroclus catches his hand gingerly. “If you need anything, call me, okay?” 

Achilles’ smile is at the point where it’s nearly faded. He exhales shakily, nodding. With his free hand, Patroclus reaches up and gently tucks a loose strand of hair behind Achilles’ ear. 

“Um, guys,” Bri says loudly. “As much as I enjoy you two dorks being sickly sweet, maybe do it some other time?”

Achilles blushes as Patroclus laughs, resting his forehead on Achilles’ shoulder. 

“Sorry Bri,” Patroclus says. 

After they say goodbye, Achilles runs across the field and into the school, where he changes quickly, avoiding people’s curious gazes. He grabs his stuff and runs out, to the front of the school, where he sees his dad’s grey Land Rover. He takes a sharp breath, squares his shoulders, and gets into the passenger seat. His dad, Peleus, a forty seven year old man with dark skin and greying hair, looks up as he sits down. Achilles puts his bag at his feet and doesn’t glance at his father. 

“So,” Peleus declares, sounding unsure. He is unsure. He never thought he’d be having this conversation with his son. The message from Thetis shocked him into a brief state of denial, but he’s worked through that now. 

Achilles swallows. “So,” he agrees, also sounding uncomfortable, because of the fact that his ex girlfriend told his parents that he had ditched her for a boy. 

Peleus doesn’t start the car. Both father and son stare at the road. It’s Peleus who looks at his son first. He can see the boy’s jaw muscles clenching and unclenching. When he puts a hand on his son’s shoulder, he jumps, making eye contact for the first time. 

“I don’t care,” Peleus says. 

Achilles raises an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting that. “What?”

His dad shrugs. “As long as… he’s better than that girl who did nothing but complain, I’m fine with it. In fact, I’m glad you broke up with her, because she drove me insane. We’ll just need to… uh talk about… stuff.”

Achilles buries his face in his hands, mortified. “You know what, just not now, okay?”

Peleus laughs. “That’s fine with me. What should we get for dinner?”

Achilles looks up, incredulous. That’s not how he thought this was going to go. It gives him the tiniest bit of hope. Maybe things aren’t so horrible after all. 

As the week slips by, Achilles finds how easy it is to get attached to someone. When he’s not with Patroclus, he feels sort of empty. And somehow, his grades are getting better. He doesn’t hear from his mother at all, which makes him worry a little bit, but also, it makes him feel lighter. Patroclus’ grades are getting slightly worse, because he hasn’t had the same amount of time to study, but he’s not concerned. He’ll need to make some changes if his grades drop below a ninety, but he’s okay for now. He watches Achilles at practice most nights, and they hang out afterwards. 

It’s incredible how it feels like he and Achilles have been a thing for months, when it’s only been a week. The rumors run rampant around the school, which gives Patroclus a lot more attention than usual. Achilles doesn’t seem to care, but Bri tells Patroclus that’s because he always has this much attention. When they’re not at school, they text constantly and Patroclus’ Achilles playlist grows longer. Automedon starts hanging out with them when Bri’s around, and Patroclus suddenly knows what it’s like to have more than one friend. 

Of course, he still rides the bus with Bri, which he’s grateful for. He needs the moments of somewhat quietness (Bri’s never been very quiet, so it’s the best he can get). He likes listening to Bri talk about a whole bunch of random things and show him things off people’s Instagram. On Friday, Bri’s wearing an amazing outfit, with a huge green sweatshirt and khaki cargo pants, with huge, fake wire rim glasses. When they get to school, Achilles and Automedon are waiting for them. Achilles sees Bri’s glasses and asks to borrow them. She gives them to him, and he shoves them on Patroclus’ face. 

“You look cute in glasses,” he announces, making Patroclus flush. 

Bri inspects him for a moment before nodding. “Yes Achilles, I agree.”

Patroclus shakes his head and walks into the crowd. Bri and Achilles have found a million ways to embarrass him. The two of them are always complimenting him as a team. They’ve become, like, a Patroclus fan club, and he can’t stand it. He’s about halfway up the sidewalk when someone wraps their arms around his waist, making him stop. Achilles rests his chin on Patroclus’ shoulder, grinning. 

“Hi,” he says, tickling Patroclus’ ear with his breath. 

Patrocus looks at Achilles out of the corner of his vision before pressing a quick kiss to his temple. “Hello deliciae.”

“You and your stupid Latin,” Achilles mutters, pulling away. “Blahhsiqnand has just as much meaning to me as what you just said does.”

Patroclus rolls his eyes. “You’re in a Latin class Achilles. Not that they taught us how to say darling, but still.”

Bri and Automedon catch up to them at that moment. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s not fair how adorable you are, and you can’t flaunt that adorableness in front of me, because I may or may not explode!” she says, body checking Patroclus, who laughs. 

"Sorry, sorry," he says, holding up his hands in surrender. 

Bri purses her lips and shakes her head.

Achilles squints at her as he catches Patroclus' hand. "Explode away Bri," he says, sticking out his tongue at her. 

Patroclus laughs again, and Bri links her elbow through his. "Fine. I'll just steal him for myself," she says, leaning over to look at Achilles. 

"I will fight you," Achilles declares.

"Oh Gods," Patroclus says, rolling his eyes. "Guys, don't fight. Why are you both so violent?"

Automedon, who's walking beside Bri, laughs. Bri glares at him. He shrugs, attempting to smother his smile.


	11. Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thetis kidnaps Achilles... but it's okay. It's fine! They're all fine in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to do this because my favorite part in tsoa is when they're reunited after the whole kidnapping debacle.

Patroclus’ mother is sitting at the kitchen table when he comes out on Saturday morning. She’s got a mug of coffee, and the steam’s mixing with a beam of sunlight. She smiles when she sees him. He pulls out a wooden chair with uneven legs and sits down across from her. She reaches out and takes both of his hands. 

“We’ve got a court date,” she whispers. 

He feels his eyes go wide. “Wow. That’s… that’s good, right?”

She nods, her dark eyes bright. He smiles at her, so thrilled to have this version of his mother back. His heart hiccups. He needs to tell her something of his own. He swallows, studying their joined hands. 

“Mom… I… I have a boyfriend,” he says softly, tripping over those supposedly simple words, which aren’t so simple put together in a sentence.

She squeezes his hands. “The truth. Finally.”

He looks up at her, eyebrows raised. “What? You knew?”

“I knew you had someone, because you’re always looking at your phone and blushing. I know that you only text your friend, Bri, and that you’ve never been interested in her, so yeah, I knew. Thank you for trusting me.”

He laughs, relieved. “Am I that obvious?”

“Oh honey,” she says, an apologetic smile washing over her face. “I’m sorry I didn’t try to help you sooner.”

Whenever he’s been home, she apologizes for not standing up to his father, for not trying to help him, for not trying to save his childhood. At least he knows where he gets his apologetic gene from. He knows she feels horrible, which makes sense, but he wishes she wouldn’t, because it wasn’t all her fault. Patroclus lets go of her hand and grabs the mug of coffee. He takes a sip and promptly burns his tongue. 

“How do you drink that so hot?” he asks, disbelieving, as he grabs a glass of water. 

His mother shakes her head, her lips betraying the tiniest hint of a smile. “Patroclus, I was letting it cool off.”

“Oh,” he says, sitting back down. “That makes more sense.”

His mother leans forwards, her eyes glinting again. “So. Tell me about him. You don’t think you can get away with telling me you’ve got a boyfriend but not telling me anything about him, do you?”

Patroclus blushes, hiding his face in his hands. His mother gently probes him until he tells her that his name is Achilles and he’s so good at playing the guitar and he’s on the football team and this and this and this. After awhile, someone knocks on the door. Patroclus jumps up, telling his mother that it’s Bri and that they’re going thrifting. She smiles and stands, stretching. 

“Have fun,” she says, picking up her toolbox from the floor and heading into the bathroom. Her new hobby, whenever she’s not working, has become doing repairs.

When Patroclus opens the door, Bri’s standing there, wearing a striped turtleneck shirt, corduroy pants, and mismatched Converse shoes. She smiles at him and waves her hands in his air.

“Let’s gooooo,” she exclaims loudly, in typical Bri fashion.

Patroclus laughs as he pulls on his own Cons. Bri stares at the top of his head as he ties his shoes. She’s glad he brought her to his house. It was making her nervous not knowing where he lived. Patroclus hasn’t been so quick to laugh since they were twelve. They step outside and Patroclus locks the front door to the little trailer. They walk down the cracked road, skipping and laughing.

Bri tugs on the sleeve of his jean jacket when he pulls out his phone to text Achilles. “Where’s this from? I want it.”

Patroclus shrugs, answering a message that was from five minutes ago. Achilles likes to sleep in on weekends, is what he discovered today. “I found it in the back of my dresser.”

“You’d think you’d know what’s in there, since you spent so long in the closet,” she says, cackling.

Patroclus shoves her as he tucks his phone back in his pocket. This is another thing that Bri’s been doing all week. Making coming out of the closet jokes. “You’re not allowed to make any more of those jokes, and Bri, it’s not called coming out of the dresser, okay? Stop reaching for the joke.”

Bri huffs. “Fine. But, speaking of clothes! Our mission today is to find stuff to wear to the homecoming dance on Friday!” she says, doing jazz hands. 

Patroclus groans, which earns a punch from Bri. “You’re probably gonna have someone to go with this year! You’re not allowed to be all… floopy about it!”

Patroclus raises an eyebrow at her and she shrugs. “It’s a good word, okay?”

Autumn coloured leaves swirl around them as they laugh, picked from the giant poplar trees by a mischievous wind. 

Achilles is sitting in his room, idly plucking the strings of his guitar, waiting for a reply from Patroclus. The team wanted to hang out today, but Achilles didn’t feel like spending all day with people who’re just going to interrogate him, so he stayed home. It’s about four in the afternoon. 

“What are you doing here?” Comes his father’s voice from downstairs. 

Achilles stops playing to listen.

“Thetis, what’re you doing here?”

“Peleus, get out of my way. I must speak with my son.”

His blood runs cold. He should’ve known this was coming. He shouldn’t have assumed that his mother would ignore him forever. 

“Thetis, you can’t just storm into my house-” his fathers voice is cut off by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Achilles scrambles to hide his guitar as his mother throws open the door to his room. 

“Achilles,” she demands. “Pack a bag. We’re leaving. Now.”

He stares at his mother from his crouching position beside the bed, dumbfounded. His father catches up to his mother.

“Thetis, no. This isn’t acceptable. I don’t think this is even legal-”

“Achilles, now,” she says, cutting his father off like a knife through jello.

Achilles feels his heart settling down on his lungs, beating like a stampede and making it difficult to breathe. He dumps out his school bag on his bed and starts grabbing random items of clothing, a toothbrush, earbuds, a charger and lastly, his phone. His parents continue arguing. In general, Achilles prefers his father, especially after his acceptance of Patroclus. But. He’s far more… afraid of his mother. Her wishes come first for some reason. Because she’s always been in control of his life. He should’ve known that she wouldn’t have stepped back so easily. He beats himself up for letting her control him, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

“We’re going on a roadtrip,” Thetis says to Achilles as he slings his bag over his shoulder. 

“Achilles,” Peleus says, grabbing his son’s shoulder as he goes into the hallway. “You don’t have to go.”

“Yes, he does,” Thetis snarls coldly.

Achilles looks at his dad, his eyes wide. “I’ll call you,” he says, nearly choking on his heart.

“If you need anything. At any time of the day. Achilles, call me and I’ll pick you up. I swear.”

Achilles nods as Thetis pulls him down the stairs. He slips on a pair of running shoes.

“Achilles are you sure you’re okay with this?” Peleus asks, crouching beside his son, fury and concern flooding through him. 

No. Please. I don’t want to go. “Yes. It’s fine,” Achilles answers stiffly. 

He and Thetis leave the house. Achilles is reeling, trying to understand what’s going on as Thetis tells him to get in the backseat of her sleek, silver Lexus. The windows are tinted, so he doesn’t see her until he opens the door. 

Deidameia’s sitting behind the drivers seat, her curly hair pulled into a ponytail, her makeup flawless. Achilles blanches. 

“Get in the car,” Thetis demands. “And give me your phone.”

Achilles gets in the car. As they drive, Thetis explains that she’s blocking the boy and installing a parental control app on his phone. As they drive, Achilles watches all the colour drain from the fall trees, leaving the whole world a dull, faded shade of grey.

On Sunday morning, when Achilles doesn’t respond to Patroclus’ text, he assumes it’s because Achilles is still asleep. In the morning, Patroclus helps his mother tear up the old vinyl flooring in the living room and hallway of their trailer. Around noon, Bri and Automedon show up to help. Patroclus asks if they’ve heard from Achilles, but they both shake their heads. He shrugs and they go back to work. The four of them emerge from the house five hours later, coated in dust and sweat, but still happy. Bri tells Patroclus’ mother about the dress she found yesterday, which is like a huge collared T-shirt, embroidered with daisies. His mother approves.

They all walk back to Bri’s house for dinner, where Bri’s aunt and Patroclus’ mother become fast friends. When Patroclus checks his phone again, there’s a song from a random number. He stares at it for a moment, wondering who it is. Only Achilles sends him music. Maybe he got a new number? He plugs in his earbuds and listens. 

Achilles sits at a round table in a restaurant with his mother and Deidameia. They dragged him all over this tiny little coastal town, looking at shops and demanding that he smile for photos. Last night, his mother took him to her room and explained everything again. Deidameia was his only option. A boy like Achilles should not go cavorting around with some other boy. She said she’d have him back for the Homecoming game if he cooperated with her. So he’s cooperating.

To make matters worse, Thetis only booked two rooms, and took one for herself, making Achilles and Deidameia stay in the same room. He’d slept in the bathtub, with the door locked. When he and Deidameia were alone, he refused to look at her. He’s refusing to look at her now. The restaurant chatter is too loud. His plate sits untouched. Everything is still grey. 

Achilles excuses himself from the table and walks outside. There’s a biting wind that pulls at his hair, smothering his face and making his cheeks sting. He swallows, pulling out his phone. There’s a message from his dad, asking him if he’s okay. He responds with one word. Yes. There’s notifications from Instagram and one from Patroclus from yesterday, before his mother made him block him.

Patroclus: Sorry I didn’t respond earlier. I was thrifting with Bri. Miss you. xxx

Miss you. Yes. Yes, I miss you, he thinks sadly. He wants to respond. His whole being aches as crimson leaves swirl around him, as if they’re flocking to another dead thing. 

Bri walks Automedon to the bus station after Patroclus and his mother leave. Bri likes Automedon, because he’s funny and he’s always chattering on about something. It’s nice to have someone else who’s loud, and who’s not involved in a relationship with Achilles. They’re waiting for the bus, when Bri pulls out her phone. She stops mid sentence, her throat jumping into her throat. 

“What?” Automedon asks, peering over her shoulder. 

He inhales sharply. Bri can’t believe what she’s seeing. A picture of Achilles and Deidameia, standing on a dock in front of the ocean. 

“That fucking dumbass,” she hisses, fuming.

Automedon stares at the picture, his brow furrowed. “But that doesn’t even make sense. Achilles hates Deidamiea’s guts.”

“Yes I know but what if Patroclus sees this?” 

Automedon cringes. “Uh…”

“He doesn’t have Instagram. We can’t do that to him,” Bri says, shutting off her phone. “Do you know how destroyed he’ll be?”

At the bus stop, while waiting for Bri, Patroclus gets a message from that number he doesn’t know. It’s a song called Little Miss Why So. He frowns and plugs in his earbuds. Achilles still hasn’t texted him, at least on his old number. Patroclus doesn’t really get why Achilles would just be sending him depressing songs. Bri finds Patroclus standing there. She feels slightly sick. Patroclus turns to her, his eyes wide. 

“What’re you listening to?” she asks, trying to sound light.

Patroclus responds by putting one earbud in her ear. As she listens to the song, she feels her eyes well up. 

She turns to Patroclus. “Why are you listening to this? It’s so sad!”

He shrugs, pulling out his earbud. He studies Bri. She’s acting weird. On the bus, she doesn’t pull out her phone and she hardly says anything. Patroclus asks her if she’s okay and she makes a noncommittal noise that doesn’t reassure him. Achilles isn’t there when they get off. It’s just Automedon, who shrugs when Patroclus asks him where Achilles is. Patroclus catches Bri sharing a look with Automedon that he can’t quite discern. Achilles doesn’t show up during the morning, and people keep staring at Patroclus like he might break. At lunch, he gets another song. It’s just as sad at the first two, and called Bruises. Helen tries to sit with him too, but he smiles at her and leaves to go to the library. He doesn’t need her drama. 

As the day progresses, the looks from people become more apparent and they start clapping him on the shoulder or hugging him for no reason. He’s not sure what’s going on and why people are acting so weird. He keeps checking his phone to see if Achilles will text him. No. If Patroclus can’t concentrate when Achilles is here, it’s so many times worse when he isn’t. By the end of the day, Patroclus is exhausted. He sits on the front steps of the school and waits for Bri, letting the daredevil breeze toss his hair and the pages of his social notebook. 

Bri’s phone has been buzzing all day, with messages asking if Patroclus is okay and posts from Deidameia’s Instagram. She’s angry at herself for not telling Patroclus about Achilles and Deidameia, but she doesn’t want to watch him break. Not yet. She checks Achilles’ Instagram, seeing with some relief that it hasn’t changed since last week, when he posted a picture of Patroclus wearing her glasses. He’s laying on the grass, fall leaves strewn around his head. His eyes are closed and he’s got that hint of a smile. Bri wants him to be that Patroclus forever. 

Achilles drifts through the day, feeling like he’s not inside his own body. They walk along the beach, the waves crashing against the shore. Achilles wants to throw himself in the ocean, just to feel the cold of the water. Just to feel something real. Deidameia’s holding his hand. She keeps taking photos of the two of them and kissing him and he wants to run away. That night, when she showers, he steals her phone. He did this yesterday and the day before. His fingerprint is still on there from when they were ‘dating’.

He tries to call Patroclus, but he doesn’t pick up. Achilles sends him another song. He wants to send a real message, but what if Deidameia’s father has a parental control app like the one Thetis installed? If he sends a message telling Patroclus that it’s him, her father might know. He misses Patroclus. The longing is a physical ache that’s made it’s home in his throat. He deletes the message strand and blocks Patroclus’ number, just in case he tries to respond. Achilles presses his hands into his eyes. Three more days. Three more days until he can explain the Instagram posts to Patroclus, telling him that he didn’t want it.

***

On Tuesday, Odysseus comes up to Patroclus, his mouth twisted in pity. Patroclus has just about had it with this. He doesn’t want anyone to pity him. He doesn’t even know why people are acting like this. Even Hector gave him an apologetic grimace this morning. 

Odysseus claps Patroclus on the shoulder. “I’m sorry man.”

Patroclus throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “What are you sorry for? Why is everyone acting so weird?” he demands.

He spins around when he hears Bri’s voice behind him. She’s talking quietly with Automedon.

“What’s going on?” Patroclus asks, his voice breaking. “Why is everyone hugging me and saying they’re so sorry? What the fuck is wrong, guys?”

Bri stares at him. She hasn’t seen him like this… ever. She looks down, fiddling with the loose embroidery on her jeans. “Have you… heard from Achilles lately?”

“No I haven’t, but someone keeps sending me absolutely depressing songs. I think that might be him,” Patroclus says, his heart tripping over itself. He glances between Odysseus, Automedon, and Bri, who’ve all got pitying looks on their faces. Patroclus wants to scream. “Just tell me what’s going on. Please.”

Bri hates herself for pulling out her phone and opening Deidameia’s Instagram. She hates herself even more for passing Patroclus the phone. She can’t watch. Automedon watches Patroclus warily as he takes the phone. When Patroclus sees the photos, something dies inside of him. Deidameia holding Achilles’ hand. Deidameia kissing Achilles’ cheek. Deidameia eating ice cream with Achilles. Deidameia Deidameia Deidameia. 

Patroclus hands Bri her phone, closing his eyes and swallowing the bile in his throat. He knew it was too good to last. 

“Patroclus-” Bri starts.

He shakes his head. It feels like a spear through his stomach. He understands why people were looking at him like that now. Patroclus wants to feel something, but he just feels numb. Bri hugs him and he hugs her back. It doesn’t make sense. Why would Achilles do that? Patroclus floats through the rest of Tuesday and all of Wednesday like a soul without a body. He doesn’t pay attention to anything and when his mother asks him what’s wrong, he drifts past her without a word. 

Achilles has barely slept all week. It turns out that the bathtub isn’t a good place to sleep, but it’s better than sleeping in the same room with Deidameia. It’s Wednesday, he tells himself as he scrolls through the messages from his teammates that he hasn’t answered. I get to go home tomorrow. Hopefully. He answers the texts listlessly, telling the guys that he’s just on holiday and that he’ll be back tomorrow for the game. Achilles’ father texted too. 

Dad: Are you okay? When are you coming home?

Achilles: I’m fine. Home tomorrow I think.

Dad: Good.

Achilles has decided that he doesn’t want to go to his mother’s house anymore. If that means he has to hide in a tree every time she comes to get him, so be it. He’s finished. For real this time. The messages he doesn’t answer are from people he doesn’t talk to very often, demanding to know about Patroclus and Deidameia. Bri and Automedon texted him a million times too, but he’s not allowed to talk about Patroclus, so he doesn’t answer those either. 

Tomorrow, he thinks (prays). Tomorrow I’m free. Achilles hates Deidameia. He hates his mother for making him do this. He hates himself for going along. He wants to go home. 

***

Early in the morning, Thetis gets Achilles and Deidameia awake. She’s slightly confused when her son comes out of the bathroom, but he tells her he was just brushing his teeth. 

She nods. “Get your things together. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

Deidameia pouts as she packs her suitcase slowly, but Achilles bounces around the room and is packed and ready to go within five minutes. He feels alive again. He does his best to hide the infectious joy that courses through him as they get in the car. Thetis is pleased. Achilles cooperated with her. The boy will no longer be an issue. Or that’s what she thinks. She looks in the rear view mirror to see Deidameia asleep on Achilles’ shoulder. She winks at her son. Achilles wants to shove Deidameia off of him. He’s about to do that when his mother catches his eye. Achilles scowls at her.

Bri’s worried about Patroclus. She’s always worried about him, but she’s more worried than usual. Patroclus isn’t really there. He hasn’t been since Tuesday. The homecoming game is today. Thursday. Patroclus stares at the clouds, grey, heavy with rain. They roil uncomfortably around the sky, looking just about ready to burst. The school is abuzz with excitement and rumors. Patroclus smiles at people who apologize, but it’s all wrong. Bri gets more anxious for him, and walks him to all of his classes. After lunch, Bri asks him if he still wants to go to the game.

Patroclus shrugs halfheartedly. “We can go watch Automedon.”

Bri nods, biting her bottom lip. “Okay.”

She can tell he feels like the clouds outside. Dark, upset, confused and full to the bursting point. Patroclus is getting used to feeling like he’s made of nothing but air. 

***

When Thetis drops Achilles and Deidameia off at the school, there’s only half an hour before the game starts. As she pulls away, waving, she’s thrilled to see the young couple’s linked arms. Achilles wants to find Patroclus, but Diomedes finds Achilles before he can do anything. 

“Pelides, you’ve got some explaining to do,” the broad senior says gruffly as he (thankfully) detached Deidameia from Achilles and pulled him through the school and into the gym. “But first,” he says, shoving a uniform into Achilles’ chest, “Get changed and meet us in the locker room, okay?”

Achilles nods and darts into the changeroom. When he’s finished changing, he runs to the locker room, where he’s greeted with many shoulder slaps and ‘hey Pelides!’ Someone shoves a helmet at him. Coach is talking about strategy, and is interrupted by Achilles’ entrance. 

“Pelides,” Coach says, trying not to sound relieved that his star player decided to show up, instead of stern. “You’ve missed a lot while you were on… holiday, so I can’t put you on the starting lineup.”

Achilles nods. “I’m so sorry-”

“No time for that now,” Coach dismisses him before returning to strategies. 

Someone grabs Achilles’ arm. He turns around to see Automedon, who’s got a very harsh question in his eyes. 

“Not now,” Achilles mutters, feeling sick with guilt. 

Bri and Patroclus make their way up the crowded bleachers, looking for a place to sit. Bri’s got a blue blanket wrapped around her shoulders and she keeps glancing at her best friend, who’s wearing nothing but a grey sweater with a white collared shirt underneath. He must be cold. She sighs. This boy is one made of mist and a biting wind. He fits in with the weather. If it were anyone else, Bri would tell them to get over it already because codependency that leaves you in such a state of emptiness is unhealthy anyways. But she saw Achilles and Patroclus together. It was like they had been together for years, not a week. They completed each other. 

The two of them find a spot to sit, high above the field. The floodlights are bright like little suns, illuminating the fake green of the turf. The chatter of the crowd becomes a roar as the home team, the Horses, run onto the field. There’s cheerleaders and music and just a lot of noise in general. The opposing team, the Warriors, are greeted with a similar scream. Football is pretty much the only thing people here do for fun, so even high school games are a big deal. 

Achilles forgot how bright the lights were. He’s got a headache. When the anthem is over, the starting lineup gets ready to play. Achilles sits on the bench between a pissed off Automedon and Paris, who Achilles is glad to see is still on the team. Hector’s absence is noticed in the first half. The Horses are down 2 to 5 by halftime. Hector’s sitting on the end of the bench, glaring at anyone who dares to look at him. Achilles finds himself looking over his shoulder, scanning the faces in the crowd, looking for one. Curly brown hair, dark skin, eyes alive with laughter. He wants Patroclus to be here more than he wants to win the game. Automedon keeps glaring at the back of Achilles’ head, assuming that he’s looking for Deidameia. 

Patroclus watches the game without much interest. At halftime, he pulls out his math book. Achilles isn’t here. That’s the only reason he watched any of the other games in the last few years. After halftime, the crowd goes wild within the first few minutes of play. Bri tugs on his arm. 

“We just scored,” she hisses to him. 

Patroclus raises an eyebrow at her. “You think I didn’t notice that? Everyone’s literally screaming.”

Bri doesn't acknowledge his sarcasm, instead squinting at the player who scored the touchdown. He’s being swarmed by his teammates, and she can’t see that well, but she’s only ever seen one player run that fast. Though, she doesn’t want to get Patroclus’ hopes up until she’s sure. 

“Go Horses,” Patroclus mutters, waving around imaginary pompoms before going back to his math. 

Bri has no clue how he can concentrate with all the noise. 

Patroclus can’t concentrate with all the noise. The Horses score three more times in the next quarter. Patroclus saw the last one, and he thought it was Achilles, and now, his heart is slamming itself around the insides of his rib cage like something that needs to be freed. He clenches his jaw, telling his heart to stop doing that. It doesn’t listen to him. 

When Achilles gets on the field, all he does is get open, get the ball, and run. No one can catch him. He wants to scream and break things. He feels disgusting. So, he runs, shoving anyone in his way out of his way. Achilles wants Patroclus, he wants his guitar, he wants his mother to be normal. He wants that touchdown. It’s the one thing he wants that he can have. The rest of the game is a blur of deafening cheers, bright lights and adrenaline. He’s sweating harder than he ever has before, and his throat burns. Achilles loses himself in the game.

Patroclus keeps glaring up when the crowd roars. Sometimes, it’s for the other team, but mostly, the cheers are for the Horses. Bri’s certain now that the player who keeps getting touchdowns is Achilles. 

“Patroclus, I think that’s him,” she tells him after the third quarter. 

He shrugs, though there’s a lump in his throat. 

When the Horses win the game, 24 to 18, it’s no surprise. People flood onto the field, screaming and dancing. Bri tells Patroclus she’s going to go find Automedon. He nods, shoving his math into his backpack. Once he’s done that, he heads down the red, popcorn littered bleachers, feeling everything and nothing, all at once.

Achilles keeps getting shoved and congratulated on an amazing game. He’s glad he’s wearing a helmet for this reason. After the game is rougher than the actual game. He ignores everyone, the need to see Patroclus getting so strong that it threatens to overtake him. He’ll tear apart the whole stadium and possibly the school, if it means finding him. Achilles spots a lone figure skirting the edge of the crowd. He’d know that head of curls anywhere. His heart leaps, then sputters, fearing what Patroclus must think of him. He starts shoving his way through the crowd, ignoring their praise. 

The figure, who Achilles is sure is Patroclus, is now walking through the empty field behind the stadium towards the school, shoulders hunched. Achilles throws off his helmet, his throat clogged with so many unnameable feelings.

“Patroclus!” he yells, his voice nearly swallowed by the sound of the crowd and the crack of thunder that tears across the sky.

Patroclus hears his name and turns around, just as Achilles crashes into him. Patroclus stumbles at the force of the embrace, overwhelmed. Achilles buries his head in the crook of Patroclus’ neck, his shoulders heaving in dry sobs. 

“Patroclus. Patroclus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want it, my mother made me. I’m so sorry,” he says into the other boy’s neck, his words cutting each other off in a hurry to get to the next. 

Patroclus recovers, wrapping his arms around Achilles, sweet relief washing over him like a flood. Achilles still wants me.

Achilles keeps apologizing until Patroclus cuts him off. “Shh, shh, shh. It’s okay,” he whispers. 

Achilles pulls away, putting his hands on Patroclus’ face and smoothing the curls that don’t lie flat behind his ears. “I’m so sorry,” he says one final time, searching for any anger in Patroclus’ dark eyes. “Sic pulchra tibi,” Achilles whispers, his eyes stinging. “I don’t deserve you.”

Patroclus bites the inside of his cheek, then rests his forehead against Achilles’. “You make me feel human again,” he says, as the clouds above them finally get tired of holding in all the rain.

Patroclus gasps softly as the cold water hits him. Achilles laughs, taking Patroclus’ hand. There’s a collective squeal from the people still on the football field. 

“Will you go to Homecoming with me?” Achilles asks, looking up at the clouds and letting the rain fall on his face. 

He’s pretty sure he’s crying. Patroclus gently takes Achilles face in his hands, staring into his green green eyes. Patroclus isn’t sure if it’s just rain that’s running down Achilles’ face. He wipes the other boy’s face with his thumbs. He leans forwards, pressing their lips together. It tastes like rain water and salt, anger and forgiveness, Latin and music. 

When they break apart, Patroclus whispers, “Did you translate that thing you said to me before on google translate? Because it didn’t make much sense.”

Achilles throws his head back and laughs. Patroclus doesn’t hate him. Patroclus is laughing with him. They’re okay.

“And yes,” Patroclus adds. “Of course I’ll go to homecoming with you. You didn’t even need to ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you soooo much for reading. I can't believe anyone actually read this! I love all these character so much (like seriously, it's become an obsession) and it was super amazing to write them myself. 
> 
> All the feedback has been awesome! 
> 
> Thanks again :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Feel free to leave comments I guess! (Also, I'm sorry if there's spelling errors too)
> 
> Oh and also thanks to my beta reader glowingemberofgold


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